The Aftermath
by Baliansword
Summary: After a night of drinking Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by outcasting Roxanne and the other Companions as he tries to help Alexander regain his sanity. Twisting plot. Warnings L, SC, and Violence. 11 Chapters total.
1. The Incident

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 1 of 11, "The Incident"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

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_Hephaestion's PoV_

Satrap. What was he thinking in asking Alexander such a thing, on such a night, at such a time? There are lines that no man can cross when it comes to Alexander. As soon as he was speaking I was staring at him with hatred, and it was wrong for me to do so. Yet, it was wrong for Cleitus to stand against Alexander. I lifted the cup to my lips as he discussed what a man was. I was watching as the others began to leave, as if they knew something terrible was about to happen. We should have known then, those of us that stood around like useless idols. We did not move though. We didn't even breathe. We just continued to stare, to watch, as if this was as much a spectacle as the dance had been.

There were few men that had gone too far with Alexander. I was the only one that had never been severely punished for questioning him. Others would be whipped, beaten, but that was expected. A king could not surround himself with those that were not confident in him. Hence it was never question, such punishments. Cleitus had never been bold enough to defy Alexander, and I honestly never would have thought him to be that man. Yet he was standing, wearing a traditional black Macedonian rag, whereas Alexander wore ornate Persian silk. Once more I felt my curse of being able to see both sides of an argument with reason.

Cleitus had a right, I suppose, to wonder what Alexander's intentions were. It truly was different to have befriended those that he had conquered. We'd bled on battlefields to defeat them as if they were an enemy. Cleitus was there, and he had even saved Alexander on one occasion. There was no one that could doubt that, to say otherwise, but at the moment there was no one willing to bring it up. Not even I was willing to cut in, not then at least. Cleitus wanted what most of the men wanted. He wanted to know whether or not he was still held above others. He wanted Alexander to tell him that he would always be his second father, third if Aristotle were brought up, and that no Persians could overpower that sort of bond. Alexander still had not said it though.

Alexander, on the other hand, was the same as always. He could not stand to be questioned. His entire life he had been hiding from the memory of his father, and I could not blame him. I helped hide him, in fact, when I needed to. Yet he could not let his mother order him around as she would gladly do. What he decided was not to be questioned. All knew that, but again, a few challenged it. I challenged it, but I knew that I would escape his wrath. He loved me, and I admit to abusing it, but only for the better of all. Only once had he refused to speak with me for something I had questioned, and it only lasted two days, even if they were two of the hardest days of our lives. Both men wanted something, and neither was willing to compromise.

Cleitus could have been wiser though when it came to questioning. For one, he should have brought this up in the morning, when Alexander was not drunk. At least in the morning he would have been calm. I would take him to bed, as I have always done when he gets in such a state, and would have made sure he went to sleep. All would have been fine. Cleitus was not wise though. Instead he decided to open up Pandora's Box in front of others, which Alexander clearly despised. Had Cleitus needed to speak with him in private it would have been better. This was a disgrace. Still, Alexander was drunk, and he was never happy when he was drunk. All knew that, but so far only Cleitus and Cassander had ever the nerve to test this. On such a night, Cleitus was testing it worse than Cassander could ever have done.

"Never did your father take barbarians as friends, ask us to fight with them in war. Are we not good enough any longer," were Cleitus' next words. I was even taken aback by them. My hand tightened around my cup, for I knew that this was getting more heated. Why was Cleitus such a fool tonight? I glanced around as they continued to yell back and forth, and I began to make my way closer to Alexander. The guests around had changed in demeanor.

They were fleeing, even the Persians, as Cleitus spoke these words. It was going to get worse though. I could already tell that it was going to get worse. Next he brought up Roxanne, and said what we had all been thinking. She was a barbarian queen, yes, and she was also childless. He'd spoken nothing that the rest of us had not thought at least once. It was then that Alexander warned him, told him to stop before he ruined his life, and it was then that I began to stride toward him. Next I knew Alexander had taken a step back, and before I knew it his eyes were wide and he was charging forward again. He had stepped back as if he'd seen something, something that could not have been there. Even now I do not know what it was he saw, but whatever it was, it had been the reason he had begun to stride forth once more. The lion in his blood had been set free from not only the wine, but also from the anger that was boiling beneath his skin. It was the same blistering disaster that had been boiling there from birth, and I'd seen it before. Yet never had I seen it as I did now.

Again I wondered how Cleitus could be such a fool. Alexander was the king, and he could get away with almost anything. Beating Cleitus into taking back his words would be a sight we would all have to watch, but none of us would want to see. There is a truth though that went through my mind. I knew as he surged forth that he was not going to beat Cleitus into submission. He wanted to tear him to shreds. He wanted to kill him, not injure him. I threw an arm around him, over his shoulder and near his neck, and tried to pull him closer to me. He'd always listened to me, always. He could not afford to stop doing so now.

"Alexander," I said, but he could not hear me. At least I hope he did not hear me, for otherwise he did not care about what I had to say. I tried to call his name again, to call him back. If I could but bring one moment of sanity to him I would be able to stop him. I would have been able to change things before they turned into what they did. "Alexander!"

I had finally latched on to him. I had finally found myself near him, and for a moment I thought he calmed. Cleitus was merely continuing to provoke him, but he seemed better. The rest of us took a step back, hoping all was well. Cleitus continued, and finally Alexander yelled out that he no longer served the purpose of our campaign. It was a death sentence in more ways than one. I saw Cassander then, and I remember it only because I saw the look of utter fear and amazement on his face, as he stepped past two guards. Cleitus laughed, as all would have done to try to ease the situation. Only now did it look as if Cleitus was regretting going this far. Perhaps now he would stop, but as I caught a glance into Alexander's eyes, I saw that bewilderment that scared me. He looked like he had so many years ago, like a caged animal that was beaten and tortured. He'd had this look when he'd come to me one night, in fear of the hatred of his father and the wrath of his mother, and I'd only been able to calm him with a kiss, and then with the warmth of my bed. It was the same look, the one he had as he was about to lose control, only now I could not just kiss him. I would have, had I been close enough, but I was not.

"Guards, arrest him for treason," Alexander called out. The guards did not move until he said it once more, louder. Two of the guards grabbed Cleitus, knowing that if they did not they'd share whatever a fate Alexander could give them. I went to step forward but Alexander was turning, looking at each and every many he could see. He asked them all the same question. He asked them all, except for me. "Who is with him?"

There was no conspiracy against him as he thought there was. None of these men were against him. We all cared about him, as we always had, even if he could not see it now. Why was Cleitus such a fool? I was suddenly pushed back as Alexander made another move toward Cleitus. Immediately I was pushing myself out and was trying to grab him before he made some mistake. The next few seconds seem slow as I think back upon them now, not very long after, but still I cannot describe all that happened. I saw the spear only as Alexander grabbed it and there was a glint of the tip as it caught the light of the fire. He was out of my reach.

There was silence, even from Cleitus it seemed, as the spear drove into his lower chest. Blood began to trickle from his mouth and he finally slumped to the floor. I reached up, before I knew what I was doing, and put my hand over my mouth. I'd seen plenty of deaths like this before, but never had it been someone as close and dear to me as Cleitus. He was not even that dear. We fought constantly, and I did not always blame him for his jealousy of me, but I still was revolted as I saw him slumped down. Alexander dropped beside him and was screaming, to the gods, and no one had the nerve to move. It was I, as always, even though I am not complaining, that had to be strong for him.

"Alexander," I whispered as I knelt down next to him. He was still crying, frantically asking the gods why, as if it would bring Cleitus back. The others around us still could not say anything. I glanced at Cassander, who had anger burning in his eyes, and I knew he would be the one to want revenge upon Alexander. As always I found that I could not blame him, but would never support revenge on Alexander, whom I loved. I looked back to Alexander and once more whispered his name. Finally I took his hand and pulled him up. Wrapping my arm around him I began to lead him to his room. I was alone, and they resented me for taking him. I could see it in their eyes. They hated me in that moment as much as they hated him for what he had done.

They hated me for many reasons; all of the others, and this was always one of the reasons. I loved Alexander, and never would I question it, for I wanted him more than I wanted anything. Spending the rest of my life with him was all that I wanted to do, even if I had to continue on these campaigns. I was never one to want to fight. Alexander is the fighter. In loving him, I compromised, and I fight for him when he asks, even if I never enjoy it. They all know this too, that in truth I am weak and am less of a man apparently for not believing in bloodshed, but they hate me because I am his. I am always the one to get him out of these situations, where either he or another has been made a fool. I always take him away, and they resent me, for there are times when his actions were wrong. His actions were indefinitely wrong just moments ago, but still, I am at his side. They hate me because I support him as no other would support any of them, and that is the simple truth. Again, I do this alone, until I see out of the corner of my eye another take Alexander's other side. I feel half of his weight lifted by the other that helps me, and when I look to see who it is, I see Bagoas. For the first time I am glad to see him. I do not feel alone any longer; even if the one that now helps defend Alexander is my own secret enemy.

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_Cassander's PoV_

"Perhaps you should bring it to his attention," I told Cleitus. I did not do it with the intention of putting him in an awkward situation. Well, perhaps I did. I do not honestly recall what my reasoning was at the time for suggesting such an action. We both knew that to bring something so petty up to Alexander would get him to explode, as everything did. I did not mean for Cleitus to bring up any of his quarrels now, before this large audience. As soon as he said something I was smiling, for about three minutes, and then I began to get worried. He was not going to stop, and neither was Alexander.

I was tired of Alexander as well, but apparently Cleitus had a list of grievances. He hated everything from those sitting amongst us to, apparently, what he was wearing. I cursed in my head. If Cleitus did not like Persian dress, then fine, he was not the one wearing it. It was petty to say that Alexander should only dress as Macedonian fashions would indicate a king to do. Let him wear whatever he wants. He looks ridiculous, not us. I reached up to rub the worry away from my forehead. This was going to end, and not happily, and I had a hand in it. Great, just what I needed, another incident to add to those that Alexander already secretly held against me. Well, the joke is on him, because I know already what he holds against me.

Glancing around I do not see everything that Cleitus does. Yes, there are new people sitting amongst us. I care, but at the same time, it brings some life to a party. I still see the same old boring faces, such as Hephaestion's, and realize that nothing has changed at all. Hephaestion still is the one that Alexander loves. Until that changes I will not be worried. I noted earlier that he did look at the dancing eunuch, but he will still love the real thing. Damn him.

"Sit down Cleitus," I whisper before I can stop myself. He really does need to stop though. For the first time he is bringing up Roxanne. She is exactly what Cleitus calls her. She is a barbarian of no breeding that does not deserve to be our queen. Truth be told, she is not even attractive. I have seen far better in harems, which she practically is from, so why does he even bother with her? If he was going to marry a whore, which he has done, he could have chosen one that is better looking. Even Hephaestion is better looking. I'd much rather have him the queen than a Bactrian barbarian. Hephaestion would not be able to have an heir though, however, Roxanne has not had an heir either. Cleitus is not wrong when he brings that up.

There is one thing, however, that I adore about Roxanne. She reminds me of the only woman that I have ever had a respect for. That respect is almost like love. Roxanne reminds me of Olympias, a woman the world should forget, but we are not allowed to. These women bury themselves underneath one's skin and you cannot tear them out with your nails, or with any blade it would seem. I continue to watch the spectacle though, wondering how it will end. If Cleitus is lucky he will receive lashes. Otherwise, I have no idea what the punishment will be. I drink some more, and before I know it, he is lunging toward Cleitus.

"Cassander," Ptolemy says as we both leap up, eager to hold someone back. It does not matter whom. No one wants a brawl and it is as simple as that. I manage to get just close enough but they've stopped. Hephaestion even steps away from Alexander, so all must be well. If Hephaestion went to his knees that quickly, he must be good. Otherwise, he'll be paying in awkward positions for the rest of the night. There is another surge though, and this time no one can stop Alexander. Cleitus is dead within moments and the rest of us stand around like fools. What else are we going to do?

Before I know it Alexander is being led off. Does it surprise any of us? I do not think that is does, or that is can. Hephaestion has always been the one to shield him from the world. If ever Alexander does something wrong Hephaestion is there to stand in front of him. If we were going to try to grab Alexander and teach him a lesson, which I have thought about, Hephaestion would be in the way. That is perhaps what I hate most about him. He is always in the way of everything. There is nothing we can do to stop that I fear. Once again, until something happens to Hephaestion where he is no longer at Alexander's side, I am not going to worry about the empire. If ever Hephaestion is not around, then there is no reason for Alexander. Then, and only then, are we going to have to worry. But something has changed in Alexander, to push him this far, so we might as well not say anything too soon.

"What has he done," uttered one of the guards, but only after Alexander is out of earshot. Of course he does not say it when the king is near. It would be foolish to do so, yes, and no one is going to blame him. I reach down for Cleitus, for I suddenly want to know that he is dead. I can see it. I just want to make sure. When I stand again, there is blood on my white chiton. I know I will have to throw it away. Have I suddenly stopped caring? Is that wrong?

"He's lost all reason," I say before I can stop myself. I am up and walking away from the scene before I know whether or not I should be. This idea has popped into my head, and as always, once an idea comes into my head it will not go away. What am I going to do? Well, I cannot put it into words. I only know that I will do it. Even Hephaestion will not be able to stop me from doing what I'm about to go through with. I enter her room without announcing myself, and the guards before her door do not care. They should care. Yet, like me, they've stopped caring for the world.

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_Hephaestion's PoV_

We place him on the bed, sitting, and I look at him for a moment. He looks terrible, and I cannot say that he shouldn't. What he has done had just caught up with him and he is in tears. Bagoas backs away, and I am not sure if he is now afraid of Alexander or not. If he is he should leave, which he has not yet done. I would leave, if I was afraid, but I am not. He's not out to harm us. I reach out and run a hand over his cheek. He is almost burning up now.

"What have I done," he whispers.

For the first time I do not know how to answer him. What do you say, in a moment where you do not have the answer, but there is one needed. I want to answer him. I really do. Yet, I have no answer, so any answer that I can give him is going to be wrong. For a moment I continue to look at him. I lean forward and quickly press a kiss against his forehead.

"I am going to go get you something to soothe your nerves," I say, for I do not have his answer. I do know what he has done. Yet I am not going to come out and say he killed Cleitus. What he has done is far more significant. There is no simple answer to this. "Breathe, I will be right back. Bagoas will remain, should you need anything, ask."

"I will be right back," I say to Bagoas. "Get him water, now. Anything else he needs, get it for him. Do not let him leave this tent though."

I do not threaten Bagoas, but he understands I am completely serious about what I have told him to do. I also leave out that I myself will beat the flesh from his bones if he lets Alexander leave. Not only would Alexander wind up in more trouble, Bagoas would be the target of the rest of the Companion's anger. Beating the flesh from his skin would be my punishment, and it is far better than anything they would do to him. I leave the tent then, knowing that I will not be back for a couple of minutes. I need to get something to soothe his nerves, but I also need to see what has become of the body, and the men surrounding in.

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A/N: Go ahead and leave me a review if you have time. If not, that is fine too. Either way, thank you for reading. Hope you have a wonderful holiday season.


	2. Roxanne is Informed

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 2 of 11, "Roxanne is Informed"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

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Roxanne glanced up as the doors opened. It was a rare occasion when any man came to visit her, including her husband. Cassander was in the room now, and for the first time she thought the room looked small. He glanced around, having never seen what was behind locked doors, and then faced her once more. He did not look at all ashamed about being there. He did not seem to mind the maids in waiting either. Instead he raised a hand and motioned for them to go. They scurried off, as well trained maids do, and left them alone.

"Well," she asked, not knowing how to communicate properly with him. They spoke never, not even on the day she had wed his king, and she knew why in her heart. He hated her. She was not of the breeding he was, and she had not given an heir to his kingdom. She knew this just as much as they all did, but they were the barbarians, not her. Never would her people threaten her with their eyes as he did just because she'd not yet had a child.

"What exactly do you do with him," he asked her. She did not understand him, and one corner of her mouth began to turn up. Her eyes also showed her surprise in his question. What was he asking her, exactly? She was unsure of what he meant. He continued to look at her for a moment, as if it would jog her memory just to stand there. Finally it seemed he understood that he had no idea what she was supposed to answer.

"When he comes to your chambers," he asked again. "What do you do with him then? Do you not fuck him? Is that why there is no heir? Or are you bad?"

"I am not Hephaestion," she hissed instantly, knowing an insult from a kind word, even if some of the words in between went past her. She glared at Cassander as if a look could kill. This only seemed to thrill him as if it was what he wanted, to see her look at him so. Had he seen this before, she wondered, from another woman. It was likely; if he was such a vile creature he'd likely been raised and sheltered by vile creatures.

"He loves only Hephaestion," she went on the best she could. Did this man not understand that she was hurting as well? It was terrible that Hephaestion had to be there. It burned her eyes that he was the one Alexander went to spend his nights with. Did this man not know that Hephaestion crawled under her skin as well, like an infection that none could cure?

"Do you give him a reason not to? What do you give him! He's lost his mind and you are partially to blame, you whore of a woman. You're a barbaric beast!"

"I am queen."

"I see that you know well enough how to say that," Cassander spat. He looked over his shoulder as a maid peeked her head through the sliver of the door. He picked up a vase closest to him and threw it at the door. It shattered and the woman pulled her head away just in time to avoid the shards of thickly polished vase. "He just killed a dear friend! You're his wife. You're to keep him happy! Can you not do that?"

"I am not Hephaestion," she repeated.

"No," he replied. "You are not. I know that you are not. What are you then, for no queen of Macedonia would let her husband lose his mind as you have yours!"

Saying such was a lie, and Cassander knew it. Olympias let Philip lose his mind, but only because she stopped caring. What was Roxanne to do? No, she was not Hephaestion, but she was something. She should still be able to control him. For a moment he continued to look at her, for he despised her, yet at the same time managed to respect her. Yes, she truly was like Olympias, strong but at the same time inept all the while. Cassander stared at her for another moment before he took a step forward.

"He killed Cleitus," Cassander told her quietly. Roxanne finally understood his words it seemed, and she stared at him in shock. Slowly she shook his head, and Cassander merely nodded back. "He killed him, before all of us."

"What business is it to me?"

"An answer all would love to hear," he said with a laugh. For a moment Roxanne blurred before him and he thought that he was looking at Olympias. Again he smirked, as if impressed with her answer for all of the wrong reasons. "Go ahead and tell the Companions that what your husband, our king, does is not your business. You are to stay away from his political aspects, yes, but to say that his actions are not your business is absurd. They'll blame you, partially, for this. Do you not know that?"

"I've nothing to do with it. I was here, alone. It was not I."

"Explain that to them. You have given the empire nothing. We remain waiting for a child that has not come yet, and likely will not, for you've had plenty of time. Tell me, Roxanne of Bactra, what are you going to do when they ask you why there is no child. Are you going to tell them that you are not Hephaestion?"

"I am not him!"

"Fine," Cassander shouted as he grabbed her shoulder. Anger was beginning to rise. It seemed that she could not understand him. She could not understand what he did, for she was not brought up in such a way. Yet she should have been. It would do her some good. "I would never ask you to be him! Stand against Hephaestion though."

"How?"

"Listen to me," he offered. He looked into her eyes, which were far darker than his, as if it would help her understand. "If you do as I tell you, perhaps we can save Alexander. At least enough for him to owe you some protection, and I some friendship."

"You want something else. Greed drives all men."

"Not all," he replied. Roxanne believed he meant that he was not powered by greed. He was, and would not deny it if asked straight about it. He was thinking of Hephaestion though when he answered. Hephaestion did not work for greed. Cassander looked at her for another moment. "Do you want to see him?"

"Yes," she answered in a soft whisper after thinking it through. He was her husband, even if she had things to hold against him. For the first time she was beginning to believe that he needed her, at least a bit. Her lashes shut for a moment before she looked up again. Cassander stood silently before her, saying nothing. For a moment she forgot her duties as a wife to a king, and she leaned closer to him. She pressed her lips calmly against Cassander's. He did not move for a moment but soon his arms were around her and his lips worked with hers, creating a rhythm she found pleasure in. He was in no way Alexander. He was a far better kisser, his lips tenderly tugging at hers with desire.

"Not now," Cassander said as he moved away from her. He looked at her, as if considering. For a moment he recalled why it would be wrong to take her right now. She was not only his queen, but she was also wed to his friend. Cassander was processing friend though. Was Alexander still his friend? He continued to look her up and down, but then shook his head with a slight laugh. No, not now, but perhaps later would suffice.

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A/N: Short, yes, but hopefully somewhat enjoyable. Go ahead and let me know. Thanks again for reading.


	3. The King's Chambers

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 3 of 11, "The King's Chambers"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

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_Hephaestion's PoV_

I returned as soon as I could. Just as I assumed there was already talk spreading about Alexander and his breakdown. Cleitus was dead and already his troops knew. They all looked at me as I wandered through the ranks as if I too had struck the spear through Cleitus' chest. I kept my eyes down, for they would think me weak, and perhaps there would be no incidents. There were not, and I made my way back to his room after I stopped by my own. There was something there I desperately was going to need, paper and ink. When I reached his tent I slowly stepped in, as if I did not know what to expect once inside. He was sleeping though.

"Did he ask for anything," I asked Bagoas, who stood obediently by the corner. He slowly shook his head, saying that he'd asked for nothing. Bagoas took his leave then, knowing that I would be able to watch him alone. I waited to make sure that Bagoas was gone before I looked at the vial in the palm of my hand. Olympias had given it to me long ago, assuring me that it would calm the worst of conditions, but it was years ago that I had received it. I was not sure if it would work, but I still hoped that it would. Slowly I opened it and picked up the cup upon the stand next to Alexander's resting place.

"What is this," I whispered as I poured the potion into the cup. It smelled terrible, like sour goat's milk I suppose. I did not know if it should smell so, for I'd never opened it before. Why I had even kept it, I do not know, but perhaps I knew a time like this would come, and I would need it greatly. I poured water in next, swirling the cup until the drink was well mixed. I then took a sip, just to make sure that it was safe to drink. Even after taking a sip I felt my jaw relax. I could only imagine what an entire cup of it would do. Silently I set the cup down and then continued to look at Alexander.

Nothing seemed apparently wrong with him. Tears had stained his cheeks, but apart from that he seemed well enough. I sat back on a chair and merely watched him, and I admit I wondered what he was dreaming. For a moment I wanted him to be thinking of me, just because I believed it would give him some comfort. Yet he frowned in his sleep, and I began to worry. There was a recent nightmare that he could be seeing, and I prayed that was not it. Both of my hands went to my mouth, and before I knew it, there were tears brimming in my eyes. Slowly they began to fall, and I felt how cool they were against my now warm skin. I wiped the tears away, but they continued.

I asked myself why I was crying, and there was no answer. Once again I remembered that Alexander was going to need me. He was going to need me to help him through this, and I could not even tell myself that it would be alright. Knowing this only made my cry more, until I felt that I could not breathe. I drew in ragged breaths before I stood, placing my hands behind my neck, and began to pace. I knew not else what to do. Finally the tears slowed, and I glanced back to Alexander. He was still asleep, but was beginning to stir. Immediately I was wiping the tears away from my eyes and cheeks. I drew in a deep breath, then sat down again in the chair, and waited for him to wake.

"Phae," he said weakly as he opened his eyes. He did not move to sit up. He just lay there as if he was waiting for his own death. Oh, my dearest Alexander, I thought. What am I going to tell you?

"No one," he then said before I could get a word in. "Only you."

I knew what he meant by it. He wanted to be alone, and I could not blame him for it either. I was not going to tell him that no one was going to come to see him. At the moment, they did not care what had happened to Alexander. All the others had only one fact to base their opinions on. They knew that Cleitus was murdered, and that Alexander was in fact the one to kill him. That fact spread quickly, as I already knew. There was no talk about Cleitus provoking Alexander. There was no talk yet about Alexander believing there were men against him. There probably were now, but still, he was their king.

For an entire day he slept, only waking once. I was not there when he woke, but Bagoas was. Alexander did not mind, or I would have heard about it. He drank the water I left for him, and then he slept again. I checked on him, but I slept as well, for I knew that there was going to be an uproar. I was going to have to put out the flames he started.

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The day was stormy and gray, and rain fell from the skies. The gods seemed to know well enough that the world was to be covered in gray. Cassander had woken early and had gone to Roxanne's room. He no longer cared what Alexander thought of him, so he took Roxanne to bed, then dressed. She continued to stare at him as he dressed.

"What," he finally asked her after a moment. She smiled, then made her lips fall and shook her head. Cassander found himself smiling as well, which was odd. He hardly ever smiled, and he knew that as he smiled at her it was not because of her. She was nothing special to him, so why smile at her? He finished dressing, putting the thought out of his mind, and then let his eyes fall over her. She too was dressed now, and she was ready for the day.

"Do you remember what you are to say?"

"I want to see him," was her reply. It was true, for she now wanted to see Alexander, her husband and king. It had been three days and he had not come out. He'd sent word to no one, and the only people that had any contact with him were Hephaestion and Bagoas. Cassander had already tried to find Bagoas, to speak with him, but could not. Bagoas had a way of blending into the shadows, and Cassander was beginning to hate it. If any conspiracy was aloof Bagoas was likely a part of it, or should be.

"Good," Cassander told her. Her answer would do. She did not need to say much more. If they were lucky Hephaestion would still be asleep, and only Bagoas would be there. Bagoas had no right to refuse Roxanne anything, and he likely would not. Technically Hephaestion had no right to refuse Roxanne anything either, but Cassander knew him better than that. Hephaestion had been given too much freedom from too young an age when it came to the Empire and Alexander, and he needed to be taught his place. Cassander hoped, secretly even though it did show from time to time, that Alexander had lost his mind so that he could teach Hephaestion where his place was.

They left, making their way to Alexander's tent. As soon as they turned close enough a young page disappeared into the sitting room. Cassander sighed, knowing this meant that Hephaestion was up. The page was just leaving as Roxanne entered, and as they both came into the sitting room Hephaestion left where Alexander was likely hiding from the world, in bed. Cassander frowned, but Roxanne had found her own courage.

"I want to see him," she said. "I've waited three days."

"He says none. Not even you," Hephaestion told her. For the first time Cassander noted how sultry his voice was naturally. He seemed as if he was trying to woo her the same way he did Alexander. Hephaestion was not taking Cleitus' death too hard it appeared. His cerulean eyes were lined once more and he was wearing an ornate Persian outfit. Cassander rolled his eyes. Leave it to Hephaestion to look beautiful, and make him look ragged once more.

"He needs me," she insisted. For the first time Hephaestion noted that Cassander was in the room. He glanced at him, and then back to her. Cassander watched her, wondering whether or not he would have the balls to deny her something. Cassander was about to say something, anything to help her, but Hephaestion was already speaking again.

"No, he doesn't."

"And he needs you," Roxanne challenged.

Hephaestion actually smile as she said this. It was a joke to him, being told by Roxanne that Alexander needed her. No, he did not need her. He needed him, yes, but not her. Even Cassander knew that Roxanne had gone too far. Cassander watched as Hephaestion calmly turned, ready to leave. He was not worried. Roxanne held no power over him, for he was Alexander's protector. Cassander wanted to grab him now and wring his neck.

"Hephaestion," he warned instead, "you make a mistake!"

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_Hephaestion's PoV _

I drew in a breath as I saw him. He was beginning to look like he'd not slept in years. He was worn to the brink, and I hated knowing that there was nothing I had yet done. Quietly I continued forward, making sure to watch for the snakes he'd decided to let out. A white python clung to his leg and as I approached it began to slither away from him as if it feared me. In truth, I feared it far more than it should have me. My breath was in my throat though and I slowly continued forth. I had to say something. I had to tell him that he had to go on. He wore white, the same outfit I had picked out for him three days ago. He'd killed Cleitus in that outfit, but to me, he still looked perfect in it. Even the lines under his eyes and on his forehead were lovely. The stubble on his face made me wild with desire, even though now was not the time. Before I could say something to him, he was weakly speaking, his voice pained as much as his eyes. Oh, my poor dear Alexander.

"Like an old lover, they will forgive, but they will never forget," he moaned as I approached him. I dropped to my haunches beside him, looking at him, and I reached out for him. Where do words come from, the ones that we say when we do not mean to? As I opened my mouth I did not expect for anything perfect to come out. I wanted only to tell him that I loved him, but something else came to me. From where, where did it come from?

"You know more than me that great deeds are made by men that took and never regretted," I assured him. I was beside him and was grabbing his shoulders. "You're Alexander! Pity and grief will only destroy you."

"Have I become so arrogant that I am blind," he asked me then. I was taken aback, but tried not to let it show on my face. I continued to stare at him, and all the while I was strong for him. I cannot say that I was entirely sure what he meant. I knew what to say though, and I drew in another breath.

"Sometimes, to expect the best of everyone is arrogance," I whispered. Oh how badly I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him. I couldn't do it though, for Bagoas was there, and I knew now was not the right time. No, I did not even want to kiss him. In truth, I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry and have him hold me, for he never did, for I could never cry around him. I had to support him, but for once, I wanted him to hold me and tell me it would all be alright. Just thinking that made me want to cry, but I held back.

"Then Cleitus spoke true," he cried out. "I have become a tyrant!"

Again I wanted to cry. He had not changed, my Alexander. He was the same as he had always been. I tried so hard, for so long, to keep him sane. Yet at the same time I remember the warning I'd received from Aristotle so long ago. I almost shook my head then. I didn't want to remember, but his words came into my mind before I could stop them. _Genetics, Hephaestion, are unchangeable. He will become his mother, and he will become his father. Genetics cannot be changed. _I needed to stop thinking.

I looked into his eyes though, and I knew. No, this was not about me, not now. I made a vow, long ago, to protect him from the world that he wanted so badly. I drew in another breath and felt as if the world had passed us by, as if a year had come and gone, but in reality it was only a few seconds. Perhaps less, I cannot be sure.

"You are mortal," I insisted, my voice laced with urgency and truth, "and they know it, and they forgive because you make them proud of themselves."

"I have failed," he then told me. "Literally."

"No," I said loudly, and I put my hand upon his cheek. I forced him to look at me then. He did, his sad eyes meeting mine, and I began to speak. "What is it that makes great men so great? Is it what they are, or are we all predestined to be something? Look at me Alexander!"

"I have never stopped looking at you," he whispered.

"You, Alexander, are mortal. You make mistakes, and none of them fault you for it. Tell them that you made a mistake. Alexander, please, look at me." Bagoas left us then. He knew that I was not able to speak with him there. Not truly, for what I had to say I had only to say to Alexander. I was about to cry, and for the first time, I knew that I was not able to stop myself. "Alexander, you cannot give up now."

"I have failed."

"No," I said, and I shook him firmly. He was looking at me now, and he was listening. I did not know it, but I was crying. I did not know until I tasted a salty tear on my lower lip. "You cannot fail, Alexander. Do you remember when you asked me if I thought you weak or divine? You are divine, Alexander, you are all that any of us could have hoped for. They need you. I need you, Alexander. You are divine, and you have never failed me, and you have never failed them."

"You've put too much faith in me," he said now through his own tears. I wrapped my arms around him as he spoke. He shivered against me, and I shook slightly as well. I let him cry, not knowing how I could stop him from doing so. Perhaps his tears would help him.

"I could never put too much faith in you," I assured him. "By the gods Alexander, I will figure this out. I'll help you, I swear it. There is no world for any of us without you. Alexander, had your father been given his way you would not be here, you would have died long ago on the top of a hill. Yes, he would have left you for the birds as your mother always said. But you are alive Alexander, and if you were not we would all be withering away in Pella. Alexander, you've never given up, not even when all others thought you would fail. We need you, as we always have, now more than ever."

"They hate me."

"No, they love you. They will never stop loving you. You're the only thing that they have, and in truth, you're all they want. Alexander, listen to me, I know them because I know myself. I love you, Alexander. I need you, please, do not leave us halfway across the world. You must be strong now."

"You shouldn't stand beside me this time. I was wrong, oh so very wrong. I killed him Hephaestion. I'm nothing but a tyrant."

"You," I corrected him, "are Alexander the Great."

"I can't let you stand by my side this time."

"Forgive me," I said softly. "I know that it is not my place to order you about, my king. But I fear that I can't leave you now. You see, I'm in love with you, and I believe in you. I'll never leave you, Alexander. Never."

I held him then. He continued to cry, and I wiped my own tears away with a hand. Yes, I loved him, and that was all that I needed to know. It did not take him long to fall asleep and I let him rest. I continued to watch him though, sitting in a chair that needed more cushion, and I needed more sleep. I needed my own sanity. I drew in deep breaths, and I tried to calm my nerves. For some reason I could only remember the past when I stared at Alexander. I remembered Cleitus taking him under his arm after his coronation, as if he was his own son. I rubbed my temples, let out a breath, and tried to push these memories from my mind. Cleitus was not against Alexander. Alexander was against himself, as he had always been, and he was against the world.

I could recall what the Oracle at Siwah said to me. Alexander had wanted me to go, just to see what would be said. In truth I was not one for religion. I did not believe in any divine gods that watched over us. Our lives were all our own. Gods were not looking out for us, or they would not have done this to Alexander, whom if there were gods they would all have loved and respected him. What the Oracle had told me made sense, I suppose it did more as I stared at Alexander now.

_"He does not exist without you, or you without him. There is a thread that binds you. Your destiny's are one. He wants the world, which he should not have, and you are the one that gives him this world. Without you he would never go on. You are right to give him this but for it you must protect him. You protect him, and he will love you, and he will protect you as well,"_ the Oracle told me. I was not sure how Alexander was to protect me if I in fact was protecting him from the world. The Oracle must have seen my doubt in this foresight. _"He will protect you from yourself, Hephaestion Amyntor. He is strong, and he will have to world. You are strong as well, but in a different way. Your emotions will rule you, and you have reason where he harbors madness."_

_"Forgive me,"_ I said as I stood. I did not wish to know the future, even if I did not believe it. I especially did not want to hear that Alexander had any madness to harbor. I of course knew that such was true, as Aristotle had warned, it was part of his genetic code. Still, I did not want to know it. _"I am afraid that I must go. There are things that need to be tended to."_

_"No,"_ the Oracle said with the shake of her head. _"You fear what I am to tell you. You, Hephaestion, are stronger than he is. If the Fates were perfect you would be the king."_

_"You should be careful what you say."_

_"You are far better suited for the throne, but you are going to be the true king, for you will stand beside him. It is you that the Fates have given hardships to. To have him as your lover will strain your life, for your life will be his. He will protect you for as long as he can, but it will not be enough. His destiny is to take the world, and yours is to stand by him. An unforeseen battle will take your life, Hephaestion, and it is then that Alexander will meet his demise."_

_"I must go now."_

_"Yes, you will go to him. But I know you, as he does, and you will not mention this will you? You'll keep it inside, and he will never suspect your death. Alexander believes he is mortal, despite what the world shall think. He thinks that you, dear one, are immortal."_

I had left faster than I've ever left a room before. She was right though, that Oracle that I had not believed. I'd said nothing to Alexander about her words. He told me briefly what she had told him, however, I knew he held things back. I, on the other hand, held almost everything back when Alexander asked for my reading in return. I told him that she'd told me I was to be a great general and that my life would continue to be perfect, for I would have him. We'd made love, and the thought of it almost brought tears to my eyes again. Alexander still slept though. I needed to grieve, but had not done so yet, and the thought crossed my mind that I would not get the chance.

"Lord Hephaestion."

The sound of my name pulled me back to the present. I turned my head, glancing over my shoulder, and looked at Bagoas. He had his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes were averted to the ground. He slowly lifted his head, for he knew me. I would not speak to him until he looked me in the eye. He may be from a harem, yes, but he was not now. He was a person, even if for the longest time he had been my enemy in a war we could not fight traditionally.

"Lord Cassander," he quietly told me, as not to wake Alexander, "is gathering the men."

"Thank you," I told him. I then stood, knowing that the time had come. They were all going to be against him, but there was one way to stop them from hating him. I'd already planned it out, I was merely waiting for this. How had I known that Cassander would be the one to start the fallout? I looked once more at Alexander before I turned to Bagoas.

"Protect him for me," I asked him. Bagoas nodded, knowing the significance of my request of him. He even looked at me, for I was not done. "I mean, should something happen to me, protect him."

"I shall," he whispered.

"Thank you."

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A/N: I would like to thank everyone for reading, but here are the replies to the comments I have received for the first two chapters.

**Snowlover: Thank you so much for reading, and for the compliments. I hope that this story continues to be thrilling. **

**Kitten : I am glad that you enjoyed the Roxanne and Cassander scene. Watching them work together shall be interesting, especially in chapters to come. Thanks so much for taking the time to review. **

**Queendel: I am glad to receive a review from you again, and I hope your 2007 is amazing as well. Hephaestion shall become very calculating, and with a few twists and turns in store I believe you'll appreciate the efforts he makes to help Alexander get back in the good graces of the other men, including Cassander. I cannot reveal the outcome of Roxanne and Cassander's plans, but you'll soon begin to see how their plan unfolds. **

**SilverBlackWolf13: Thanks for reading. I appreciate you dropping a comment. I hope you continue to read, and continue to like the story. Let me know what you think as we progress!**


	4. Raged Companions

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 4 of 11, "Raged Companions"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

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"He is too self-absorbed to think that he has any right," Cassander said as he slammed the door. Ptolemy, the last to arrive, glanced at him as if he'd shut the door on the gods themselves. Cassander had always been angry, and he hence was the one that was going to attack Alexander first. The rest of the Companions sat, just as wronged by the injustice of Cleitus' murder, but still they sat. None of them wanted to be the one to go against Alexander. To do such was foolish, as they all knew.

"Cassander," Nearchus warned, "you know that Alexander does not take kindly to those that go against him."

"Who is against him," Cassander asked, on the verge of screaming. "Was Cleitus, your friend, against him? Was he Nearchus? Perdiccas? Ptolemy? Was there something going on that we, or that I, did not know? Tell me!"

"Cassander, calm down," Ptolemy said. "We are all angry, I assure you of that. Cleitus was our friend, but this is not a one sided matter. We have to look beyond our anger."

"You want to pardon him?"

"No one said that," Perdiccas objected. "You must think about it though Cassander, there is an Empire to think of. We cannot overthrow him. How would we manage something like that?"

"Put your mind to it," Cassander sneered.

"No," Ptolemy answered firmly. "There are thousands of men that depend on Alexander, whether or not Cleitus is gone. Yes, those that know are angry. They all believe that perhaps he is becoming a tyrant. But think of the consequences Cassander. If we do anything, taking any power from him, we risk everything."

"He will have the right to take us from power," Perdiccas elaborated. "There are plenty of soldiers that would not miss us if they were to take our ranks. Even if, and it would not be possible to stop their corruption, all of the soldiers backed us, you forget other elements. How would we decide who is to take over the Empire? There can only be one king."

"None of us would agree on which of us it is," Nearchus concluded. "We would fight, then the men would fight, and eventually it would end in chaos. It is the way of things."

"Are you going to forget that he killed Cleitus!"

"No, of course not. There will be a way to deal with Alexander though, but not by taking from him what is his. You are too bold Cassander, and we love you for it, but we need to stop you before you kill us all. Alexander is king, and he shall remain king."

"How are you going to punish him then? You think you are all so wise but you never act! Telling him we are angry is wasted on him. He does not care!"

"He cares," Ptolemy replied softly. "He cares for the opinions of certain men. You are right, by that I mean Hephaestion. Yet I notice he is not here. Did you forget to send him word?"

"Damn you all," Cassander cursed. He sighed, then paced for a moment before turning back to Ptolemy. "Of course I asked him to come. He is with Alexander, as he always is. You complain that Alexander should remain king, but he has not been king for years now. Hephaestion is the king."

"Watch your mouth."

"You know it is true," Cassander whispered as he went toward the door. He left then, hating all of his friends more than he ever had. They were such fools. How could they not see that Hephaestion was in charge, not Alexander.

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Roxanne waited for the door to shut before she looked up. Cassander stood there, clearly defeated, even if his great pride would not accept such a resolution. She sat back and waited for him to approach. He did, knocking over a vase as he did so. In truth she jumped slightly, afraid of what his wrath would next be aimed at. She did not know him, and hence she did not know if he could be trusted. He was lovely though, his features perfect for a man that came from the western bounds.

"Hephaestion rules them all," he told her and he picked up a jug of wine. For a moment she was going to call for cups to be brought in, but he drank it without one. She watched in amazement as he downed the sweet burgundy wine, wondering how he could drink so long without breathing. He then set the jug down and glanced at a mirror she'd hung. Rolling his eyes he stepped out of its view, as he always did. She was aware that he never stayed before mirrors, as if he feared his own reflection, and planned to ask him later about it.

"He secretly is powerful," Roxanne told him. She had known this for some time now. She had known when on her wedding night she'd come to find him with Alexander. Alexander to this day wore the ring that Hephaestion had given him, something she'd hated seeing that night, and had thrown across the room. She hoped that he would leave it somewhere, but he'd done his duty by her, then slipped the ring back on his finger. Where the ring was that she had given him, she did not know. Perhaps it was hidden somewhere, or perhaps Hephaestion had thrown it out. She knew many times she had tried to get rid of Alexander's ring. He had stopped taking it off for that exact reason.

Yes, Hephaestion was very powerful. She did not know him as Cassander did though. Perhaps he was worse than even she knew. For the first time she was glad that she had not grown up with them, and that she did not know their secrets. Hephaestion was beautiful, this she knew. He was soft, even when he tried to act the part of a general, and she gave him credit for such. In general it was the job of eunuchs to be both a man and some lovely beauty. Hephaestion overpowered both worlds though, and she knew this. It took a special man, or woman for the matter, to stay with someone like Alexander for days let alone the years that Hephaestion had been at his side.

"I do not know why they cannot see it," Cassander went on. He sunk down in a chair with his jug of wine, and he finished it as he contemplated things she could not know or understand. "The entire fate of the Empire, our fate, is in Hephaestion's hands and no others know it."

"There are times when two strengths must battle one another."

"They want Alexander to remain in power."

"I am not referring to Alexander," she told him. "You say that Hephaestion has the power, the power that you want and need. If you want to get rid of such a power, then do so. Get rid of Hephaestion."

"You think that I should kill him?"

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Alexander slowly opened his eyes. The room seemed bright, even though outside it still rained. He could hear it, the drops of water hitting the muddy ground. He looked around the room without moving. To his dismay Hephaestion was not there. Instead there was Bagoas, who was preparing a drink. Alexander let his eyes fall shut again. He did not feel like belonging to the world. He wanted to sleep. As he closed his eyes he searched for a release, to be wandering in a dark abyss without even a hint of a dream, but did not find it. It was as if he could hear every sound known to man. He heard not only the dripping rain but also every move that Bagoas made.

"How is he," a familiar voice asked quietly, drawing Alexander from his own troubles. He listened as Hephaestion set something down. Now he wanted to wake, to clearly sit up and wrap his arms around Hephaestion, but found that he could not. The pain that he felt was terrible. He could only imagine what Hephaestion, his devoted and truest friend, was going through. Not only did Hephaestion have to worry about Cleitus, he also now had to fear the situation Alexander had put them in.

"Hephaestion," Alexander whispered. Slowly he found his eyes opening, and he was already blinking back tears. Hephaestion waved a hand at Bagoas, who calmly left them, and then came closer. He sat down upon the edge of the bed, staring at him for a moment before he reached out to him. Alexander had never felt skin softer than Hephaestion's; he was always so gentle. Even now he was gentle as he ran his palm over Alexander's cheek. The stubble beneath his fingers was enticing, for he never lost his desire for Alexander.

"Do you need something," he asked him quietly as he drew his hand away. Alexander just stared up at him, into deep cerulean eyes in which he always seemed to lose his path. Everything about Hephaestion was perfect, but his eyes were his truest beauty. Hephaestion continued to gaze down upon Alexander, waiting for his words, waiting for him to say anything for anything would now calm his nerves.

"I am sorry," the king replied after a long silence, and he meant it. Hephaestion said nothing immediately, nor did he need to. It took a long time for Alexander to stumble over the apology. Three words pierced him through the heart and Hephaestion had no intention of bringing him more pain. Instead he used his thumb to wipe tears away from under Alexander's eyes. He then leaned lightly over him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. As he drew back Alexander continued to gaze at him as if he were some sort of god, and in truth, Alexander had always found him to be such.

"I'll get you something to drink," Hephaestion told him as he drew away. Alexander did not want him to go but at the same time did not have the heart to stop him from going either. Hephaestion did not go far. He stopped before a tray, which Alexander could not remember being there before, and lifted a small silver pitcher. He poured a drink for Alexander, then brought it back to him, carefully placing it upon his lips. Alexander drank and was instantly thankful that Hephaestion had been gifted to him by the gods. The sweet drink had been made by Hephaestion, a mixture of many fruits he had stored along their journey. Alexander had come to love this drink, for Hephaestion made it only for him. There was only one thing that tasted better, and it was the juice's maker, which Alexander knew he would not be entitled to for the rest of his life. He deserved death, and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that his generals would want such a punishment for him. Hephaestion would not be able to stop them, not this time.

"Do you want water instead," Hephaestion asked as he set the cup down. Alexander slowly shook his head. He felt tired, too tired, and for the first time noticed the empty vial on his nightstand. He glanced at it, and Hephaestion followed his gaze. Upon seeing the vial Hephaestion did not seemed surprised, merely turned his attention back to Alexander.

"It is for your nerves," he told him. "Do not worry; tomorrow you will be up again. I only wanted to make sure that you would sleep."

"Cleitus?"

"No," Hephaestion answered, knowing what lingering hope Alexander had. He ran his hand over Alexander's forehead, checking his temperature, and then pushed blond locks of stray hair back onto the pillows. Finding a wet cloth he pressed it to Alexander's forehead, dabbing away sweat and cooling him at the same time. Not only did Olympias' potion cause him to sleep, it caused the alcohol and wine to seep from his pores.

"How are they?"

"Better," Hephaestion responded shortly. He did not wish to reveal too much to Alexander. It was better to have him calm and unworried. He tossed the cloth aside and then carefully stood. Reaching down he swooped Alexander into his arms and received only a few moans in protest. "Shh, do not worry. You need a bath, it will do you good."

Hephaestion sat him on a soft chair that was in the corner of the bathing room. He then dipped his hand in the warm water that had been brought into the room. Silently he picked up another pitched, still filled with warm water, and poured it into the already steaming tub. He next picked up a small bowl of salts and scattered a few handfuls over the water. Before he turned back to Alexander he lit a few scented candles and placed them on potpourri baskets near the tub. The scents were used to soothe, and he hoped they would further help Alexander. After doing this he turned and dropped to his knees before Alexander. Without offering any explanation he began to untie the sash at Alexander's waist. Alexander placed a hand over Hephaestion's and his eyes pleaded with his lover's. He wanted him to stop, to leave, but Hephaestion boldly took Alexander's hand and placed it on the arm of the chair. He continued to undress him, lifting him carefully when needed, until Alexander sat completely nude on the chair.

Hephaestion lifted him once more and placed him in the tub. Alexander let out a soft breath as he felt the warm water cover him. It did soothe him, as did everything else Hephaestion had supplied the room with, but nothing could match the comfort that Hephaestion's presence brought to him. Before he could adjust to the water Hephaestion was pouring water over his hair. He then reached for a small dish with soft soap in it and began to wash his hair. Alexander stared at the water as dirt and blood began to sift through it. It haunted him, and he found himself looking away. He kept his eyes then on the edge of the tub, but said nothing, for he could not find the words. Hephaestion washed Alexander's hair after soaping it for the second time and then picked up a clean cloth. He moved so that he was at Alexander's side and dipped the cloth in the warm water. He then picked up a crème colored bar of soap and began to gently slide it over Alexander's shoulder. He washed his face, his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and then his back. Silently he lifted each of Alexander's arms and washed them. He moved further down, washing his legs and then his feet. Without saying anything at all he washed the most intimate places of Alexander's body, and then set the soap back down.

"I'll help you stand," Hephaestion said after he himself rose. He took both of Alexander's hands, then moved his grip up to his forearms, and helped him stand. Alexander shivered, not from any cold, but from shame. Hephaestion wrapped a large towel around him and began to pat him dry after he'd lifted him from the tub. He finished drying him and then dressed him. Alexander loved each and every moment of it, feeling the warmth of Hephaestion's hands as they expertly glided over him. There were still no words between them, just a silent understanding. Hephaestion sat him back down in the chair and then combed his hair. He then picked up a straight blade, a razor he'd purchased in Persepolis, and set it on a stand he'd found. He picked up a pitcher of warm water and poured it into a small wash bowel, then found the brush and soap he was looking for. He dipped the brush in the water, then upon the dried soap powder, and began to rub it over Alexander's cheeks. The soap began to foam and Hephaestion carefully shaved him, knowing well enough how painful the blade could be.

"Much better," Hephaestion said as he washed Alexander's face. He picked up a mirror and held it before Alexander. For the first time he smiled, but his smile was a sad one. "What, do you not like it?"

"No," Alexander said immediately. "I don't deserve you Hephaestion. I never have. It was foolish for me to think that I did. I'm sorry that I have not made you happy."

"Alexander," he whispered as he rose slightly in order to softly place a kiss against his lips. "I am the most fortunate man in the world. You're all that I care for. You've never done anything but for make me happy."

Hephaestion did not give him the opportunity to argue. He carefully lifted him in his arms once again. Without saying anything he placed Alexander back down on the bed, which conveniently had been supplied with new sheets and blankets. Bagoas was a perfect phantom, coming and going when he needed to, and always leaving things in better conditions than he'd found them. Alexander did not argue as Hephaestion drew the sheets over him, then a light blanket. He felt tired, so very tired, and already his eyes were beginning to close.

"Sleep now," Hephaestion told him quietly. "Tomorrow should be better."

"Before I," Alexander said hazily. He lost the rest of the sentence, but went on. "Tell me again."

"Tell you what, Alexander?"

"About…my mortal self, and forgiveness."

"You are mortal," Hephaestion whispered against his ear, knowing that Alexander was already falling back into the world of dreams, "and they know it, and they forgive you because you make them _proud_ of themselves."

As he drew away he stared down at Alexander once more. He seemed so peaceful when he slept. The world could not harm him anymore, not while he slept. Hephaestion silently pressed another kiss to his forehead. It was then that he sat back in his chair and picked up a thick coat he'd brought with him. Alexander had given it to him years ago, just before he had decided to take Roxanne as a bride, and Hephaestion had never parted with it. He resolved to stay there for the night if only to look at Alexander.

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Cassander picked up another closed letter and tore it open. Just like many of the others it was nothing of much importance. He tossed the useless letter down and then pulled the drawer out. He dumped it out and piles of Cleitus' personal correspondences fell onto the cot. It did not take long to sift through them. Many of them he tossed into a small fire he'd started in the chamber pot. Finally he found something that looked promising. He took it with him as he left, and before long he wound up in his own tent. Upon entering he saw Roxanne, wearing nothing, lying stretched out over his bed.

"Make love to me again," she asked, or ordered. He was not sure which way her words were to be taken. Had she been asking he would possibly consider. If it was an order, and he was beginning to think it was, he was still considering it. Instead of making a move he unfolded the letter once more. It was going to be his saving grace, should he get caught in this intricate plot he'd formed with Roxanne.

"Would you like to hear it," he asked.

"What does it say," she asked, a cold smile creeping over her lips. She knew that Cassander had gone to find something incriminating in Cleitus' tent. He had already been to Hephaestion's, but Hephaestion was wise. He had several locked boxes, all of which likely had his personal correspondences.

"I know Alexander better than he knows," Cassander read. "Should it become needed I will help control him."

"Whom did he write to," the harpy asked.

"Doesn't matter, I ripped the top off and burned it. His signature is at the bottom. We only need his name and his words in his hand. I believe it was to Olympias. Of course, it is not meant as it sounds once you take away the top few lines. He meant to do what Hephaestion does, protect Alexander from himself. Too bad, he will not be able to protect him from this."

"You are sure," she asked. She was beginning to feel as if something were boiling under her skin. She did not want to kill Alexander, not truly. She did not love him, but at the same time, she did not hate him enough to want him dead. Part of her knew that once he was dead she'd be no queen. Even if everything worked out according to plan, what was to keep Cassander from killing her? He'd promised to keep her as his queen, for he would weasel his way onto the throne, but if he was willing to betray Alexander would he betray her as well?

"Hephaestion first," he said. "Then I will deal with Alexander. He'll be easy to get rid of without Hephaestion protecting him, watching over him as if he is a child."

"He loves him," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Well," Cassander said with a quick laugh. "We can always burn them together."

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**A/N: As always, I thank all of my readers. My next chapter, hopefully, will be up soon. Feel free to leave me a comment, for I love them, no matter what they say. **

**Candice: Thanks so much for the review. Yes, I fear that Alexander often does not realize how wonderful Hephaestion truly is. In this fiction, as you should find, he will see what a true and eternal companion he has in Hephaestion. As for Cassander's musing, the plot will continue to unfold and you shall see more. **

**Queendel: Thank you again for a wonderful review. I love a strong Hephaestion as much as you do. I believe he was envied by many, and they tried to hold him back, yet he defied their means and became Alexander's closest Companion. I hope you continue to enjoy his depth. **


	5. Fate of the Empire

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 5 of 11, "The Fate of the Empire"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

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His eyes flickered open when he heard his name. Bagoas stood before him, saying nothing until he knew Hephaestion was listening. Hephaestion reached up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, even though he had only drifted off for a few seconds. Once again he glanced at Alexander, whom was still sleeping undisturbed.

"Your bath is ready," Bagoas said quietly, causing Hephaestion to stare at him. He had not asked for a bath to be drawn. Bagoas sensed that Hephaestion was perhaps confused, maybe even angry with him, and his lips parted. "I thought it would help you relax, your lordship."

"Thank you," Hephaestion replied. There was something deep inside that wanted to stay and just stare at Alexander. Yet on the other hand, in a truth and a reality he was still able to comprehend, he knew that he needed to relax. He would be no help to Alexander if he was ill from stress. Hephaestion finally stood and went into the other room. Bagoas obediently followed, not knowing any better, of perhaps he still felt as if he served Hephaestion as well as Alexander.

"I can do it myself," Hephaestion assured him. Bagoas did not pay him much attention though. Instead he reached out and began to help disrobe Hephaestion. Hephaestion was not in the mood to argue with him, but tried to stop him once more. Again he repeated that he could undress himself, except this time he repeated it in Bagoas' Persian tongue, and again his attempt failed. Bagoas smirked almost before looking back down. He reached out and untied the sash at Hephaestion's waist, then pushed soft material away from Hephaestion's shoulders. Within a few moments Hephaestion was almost disrobed entirely, and finally he took a step away from Bagoas. He turned his back to Bagoas and finished himself then quickly slid beneath the water in the tub. Immediately he felt soothed, even though his mind was still clouded.

"Shall I help you Milord?"

"No," Hephaestion said as he closed his eyes and leaned back. Before he knew it though he was speaking his mind. It no longer mattered if it were only Bagoas listening. He needed to say such words, had to, and if Bagoas did not understand half of them he would not mind. Bagoas simply folded his hands behind his back and listened, listened intently, as Hephaestion went on.

"I don't know what to do," Hephaestion started softly. He lay back in the tub and stared upwards, as if he could see something other than the thick roof of the tent. "I have always known what to do. When we were younger, long before you knew either of us, he used to get in trouble as well. Nothing like this, just small things. If he broke a vase in a grand hall I would take the blame, or I would find a way to repair it, so that the next time it was touched it would fall apart. Then he would not get in trouble. It has been so long though Bagoas, so very long. I've protected him the best that I could. I've kept him from harm, and I have loved him, but I have never been able to stop him."

"Stop him," Bagoas asked, for the first time truly feeling as if Hephaestion were speaking to him, and not to air. He felt his hands loosen and fall to his sides. If only Hephaestion could know how deeply Bagoas respected him, how he truly did wish to speak with him, even if about problems such as these. He did not mean to be a threat, despite what Hephaestion thought of him.

"From finding the trouble," answered Hephaestion. "He always finds it, seeking it out as if it will save him somehow. I love him, I do, but sometimes thinking of the things he has done drives me mad. Never repeat this, I trust you, but he has lost his temper before. He has killed men before, out of anger, but never someone as near to him as Cleitus. Out of his drunken anger he murdered one of his pages one night. He was young, like you, and kind as well but Alexander swore he was plotting against him. He killed him, and when I came in, he looked at me as if I should have done it for him. We threw him in a river not far from camp, and when the body was found it was blamed on thieves that lurked in the forest. Do you see, Bagoas? I have been wrong all these years, thinking that he would change."

"He tries," Bagoas said, and instantly he wanted to take the words back. Hephaestion turned his head to look at him then. Bagoas drew in another breath then glanced away. At the first chance he had gotten he had betrayed Alexander and was willing to tell Hephaestion everything that Alexander had disclosed to him in private.

"What do you mean?"

"Just that," he began but choked on the words. He stopped, then started again, hoping that his Greek was understandable. "He does try to please you."

"I know he does. What does he say to you though?"

"We speak," the eunuch whispered. "I'm not sure if, well, I do not tell others what he says. To tell you would be…"

"You're right," Hephaestion interjected. It was good to know that Bagoas was loyal, even if it meant that he would receive no answers. Instead of going on he picked up a new washcloth and dipped it into the warm water. Silently he placed the cloth over his face and continued to lay back. He heard Bagoas shift on his feet and then leave quietly. He remained still for a few minutes before he sat up, taking the cloth from his face, and drew in a deep breath. What was he supposed to do? There seemed to be no answer. Alexander had put himself into a situation that for the first time, Hephaestion did not know how to get them out of. Perhaps only the gods would have the answer.

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Cassander had pushed himself up on an elbow and stared down at Roxanne, whom was still sleeping. A dark strand of hair had fallen and was now frayed out upon her cheek. He carefully pushed it back with a finger before he pushed himself out of the bed. It took him a few moments to dress and he then ran a hand through his hair. After a moment he decided that it did not matter how he looked anyways. Hephaestion would not mind, not as he was killing him.

A few moments later he was entering Alexander's private tent. There were no guards to be seen and even Bagoas was making his appearance scarce. Cassander smirked, thinking already that his mission was going to be far too easy. He stepped into the tent and immediately stopped. Alexander was asleep, yes, but he could wake at any moment. Cassander continued to quietly look about the space, looking for any sign of Hephaestion. It took a moment, and then he saw the bathing room. Slowly he crept in, and he let out a slow breath as he saw Hephaestion lying in the tub.

Even though a cloth covered Hephaestion's face he knew he would have to be careful. Using great skill he pulled the drape shut and the two rooms no longer connected. The thick drape, which hung without moving as soon as he'd let it go, separated the rooms with a great ease. There was no way to see into either side, and hopefully there would be no sound. Cassander took a few steps closer, still standing behind Hephaestion, and then stopped. It was all too perfect, and in the simplicity of it all Cassander was beginning to question what he was doing. He reached up and ran a hand over his face. No, he had to do it. He absolutely had to get rid of Hephaestion; otherwise he would never have any power. He'd convinced himself that it would be fine; however, there was an odd taste in his mouth. He swallowed hard, saliva already pooling in his mouth it seemed, and then took the final step forward. Quickly he placed his hands on Hephaestion's shoulders and shoved him beneath the water.

Hephaestion jerked in all directions then, and his arms shot from the water. Cassander felt Hephaestion's hand wrap around his wrist, and his fingers dug into his soft skin. For the first time Cassander was realizing how strong Hephaestion was. Hephaestion managed to get his head out of the water and drew in a quick breath before he was pushed beneath the surface once more. His lungs ached, and already he had swallowed more than a few mouthfuls of water. He opened his eyes and for a moment could almost make out his attacker's face before his hair blurred his vision. For a moment he had remained calmed, but his body was beginning to panic, and within a couple of moments he was thrashing about. He let his arms and legs freely flail about, yet he still feared that he would not overcome this. However, he suddenly felt his body sink. He'd been let go.

He sat up and drew in a jagged breath, his lungs screaming in pain, and be coughed for a moment. As he did this he continued to look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of whomever had tried such an assassination. Coughing, the word assassination went through his mind again, and he pushed himself out of the tub. He fell to the padded ground, his body jerking slightly, even though adrenaline filled his veins. Drawing in another breath he tried to push himself up again, but could not. Something was dreadfully wrong with him, but he did not yet know what it was. He pulled himself, knowing that he had to get to Alexander, until he reached the swinging drape. He grabbed it and began to pull himself up. The hooks held for a moment before falling from their latch upon the roofing of the tent, and again he hit the ground. With the drapes gone he could see though. Alexander still remained in bed, and was sleeping, and not harmed for he moved his head slightly.

"Alexander," Hephaestion whispered before he let his body stretch out upon the floor. He managed to roll onto his back, and then he felt as if he had stopped breathing. Everything ached and the tent began to move, as if there were an earthquake, but his reasoning told him nothing was in fact moving at all. _I'm dying, _he thought, but then heard something. He turned his head slightly, just in time to see Bagoas drop a pitcher of water, and then the boy was at his side. Bagoas reached out for him, for something, and he tried to move away. As he did this he felt a sudden head-splitting pain, and then he closed his eyes, and he drifted into darkness.

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Alexander jumped up as he heard the clatter. He saw Bagoas cross the room and drop to the ground beside something, which he could not see from his position. For a moment he thought that perhaps Bagoas was trying to pick something up, as if water was going to harm it, but he then thought better. A feeling, a terrible feeling, bore into his gut and he threw the blankets away from himself. He slid out of the bed and came around to see Hephaestion lying on the floor, his lips slightly blue, and blood dripping from Bagoas' lap onto a rug.

"Hephaestion," he gasped as he dropped to his hands and knees beside him. He drew Hephaestion into his lap and placed a shaking hand upon his cheek. Bagoas stood and immediately went for a physician, knowing that they were going to need one. For the first time in days Alexander was seeing things clearly, and he no longer wanted to. He shook Hephaestion again, carefully but still forcefully, and then said his name once more. This time his tone was pleading. "Hephaestion! Oh gods, Hephaestion, can you hear me? Hephaestion, Hephaestion!"

He lifted his eyes and noticed that the drape had been ripped from its post. His eyes followed a smear of blood all the way back to the tub. Something was wrong, and he knew it, for Hephaestion was not at all clumsy. He had never lost his balance before, and he certainly had no reason to start. Alexander did not care about that now though. He cared about the near lifeless body he held. Leaning down he listened for breath, and he then pressed his lips against Hephaestion's. There was nothing for a moment, but he then felt Hephaestion's lower lip move. Hephaestion suddenly jerked back, as if still frightened of something, and then let out a pained cry.

"Shh," Alexander said as he reached for him. "The doctor will be here in a moment."

Hephaestion was not listening though. Instead, he drifted back into the realm of darkness. There was nothing more that he felt like doing. Alexander was fine, and at the moment, he did not care about anything else.

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"Shit," Cassander cursed as he threw the vase across the room. He picked up a cup and hurled it at the door next. "Shit, shit, shit!"

He then threw himself against the door and before he knew it began to cry. He slid down until he lay on the floor, crying as if had just lost his best friend. Cassander then drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He placed his chin upon his knees and then wiped his eyes. He couldn't do it. There had been the perfect opportunity, but he had failed. Just before Hephaestion was about to drown he'd seen something beneath the water, and he couldn't do it. He'd seen himself.

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**A/N: Hope that everyone enjoyed. Next chapter will be up soon. I know, this one is a bit on the short side. Thanks for everyone reading, and thank you Queendel and SimonO for your reviews of the last chapter. **


	6. Plots and Plans

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 6 of 11, "Plans and Plots"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

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Hephaestion did not move until the doctor was done. Only then did he begin to come to. Slowly his eyes opened and he stared up at Alexander, who looked as if he had been crying again. Hephaestion blinked again, wondering why Alexander felt that he needed to cry. Had he not begun to get over his previous actions? As he stared at Alexander he felt a throbbing, gentle at first, but then it was almost unbearable. He winced, and then reached up for his head. Slowly his fingers crept behind his head to just above the base of his neck. A small patch of hair was gone, replaced with stitches, and he let his fingers glide gently over them. Again he blinked, and this time when he opened his eyes Alexander was nodding at the doctor before he left his room.

"Who did it," Alexander asked as he sat beside him. Hephaestion swallowed, feeling his throat was dry. He then continued to stare at Alexander. It took a moment, but then Alexander leaned down and pressed a kiss against his lips. It was soft, too brief, but enough.

"I am fine," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm concerned for you. The vial your mother gave me…do you feel alright?"

"I feel fine my love," Alexander said as he entwined his fingers with Hephaestion's. Everything had seemed so clear when he'd opened his eyes. His vision was clear, but in the moment that he'd woken up the clarity had been too much. Silently he leaned down and placed another soft kiss upon Hephaestion's forehead. Hephaestion took in a soft breath and then glanced slowly around the room.

"Do you need some wine," Alexander asked.

"No. I was looking for the guards. You, I, sent them away. He wasn't after you."

"Who," the king asked once more, feeling as if Hephaestion was not paying attention to him. He seemed out of it. The doctor had warned that he'd hit his head with a great deal of force. They were lucky that he was up to waking. Hephaestion drew in another breath before slowly pushing himself up. Alexander helped position him into a sitting position, then continued to stare at him. "Hephaestion, you know who did this, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter," Hephaestion assured him. "There are other things to worry about. Have you…has…"

"I have spoken to no one," Alexander finished, knowing what Hephaestion was meaning to ask. He ran his hand over his cheek once more, still staring at him as if he'd not seen him in years. Hephaestion blinked, then glanced to the stand beside the bed. Alexander followed his eyes and then picked up the papers that lay there. He lifted them and let his eyes meet with Hephaestion's once more. "What is it?"

"Your apology," Hephaestion answered quietly. "The funeral is tonight, at sunset. I knew you would be sleeping, so I wrote it. No one else knows about it. If you read it now, you can decide if you like it or not, and change what you wish."

"That isn't important now," Alexander said, tears now brimming in his eyes. He reached up and wiped a stray tear away then shook his head. "Don't you see Hephaestion, it is not about me anymore. I no longer care what they think of me. I failed them, and Cleitus, and nothing that I say can take that back. I have you Hephaestion, and that is all that I want. You are all that matters."

"You have me. You have always had me, but the world is yours. They love you still, just as I do. Please, don't stop fighting now."

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The door shut and with a sudden force Cassander felt himself being slammed against the wall. He felt all of his breath leave him and Hephaestion continued to push him against the wall. Hephaestion cocked his head, and then pressed a thin blade against Cassander's throat. Cassander smirked as he glanced down, barely able to see the glint of the silver in the light produced by the thin rays of the sun. He felt like laughing, but knew better than to do that now. Yet as he looked up, finally seeing Hephaestion's precious cerulean eyes, a pang of guilt shot up his spine and rippled throughout his body.

"If I had no conscience," Hephaestion hissed, "I would slit your throat and watch you writhe as your blood slowly soaks in your own pool of blood."

"You mean if you knew what was good for you."

"Whatever your newest plan is, it will not work. Alexander is better now. You have once again lost, my friend. I told you long ago to stay in Macedonia. You should have listened to my advice, for when this is over, you will have a spear in your heart and not a scepter in your hand."

"I wouldn't go that far," Cassander laughed. "You have had a hard few days. Perhaps you are unaware of what goes on with the men. They all hate him. They all see him for the tyrant that Cleitus named him. Your wit will be lost on them now, my friend. Alexander is the one that will end on a spear."

"No," Hephaestion said as he punched Cassander hard in the gut. Cassander let out another breath of air, and then drew in a weak breath as he tried not to double over. His eyes met with Cassander's, and in that moment Cassander saw what Hephaestion hid behind such veils. He was just as angry as the rest of the men, and he was more than hurt, and there was a hint of betrayal there as well. So, even the great Hephaestion Amyntor could come to hate his Alexander, at least for the predicament Alexander had put them all in.

"I have something to offer you."

"You have something to offer me? Forgive me Hephaestion, but your thighs do not appeal to me."

"They did in Pella," Hephaestion shot back while Cassander walked away from him. With such words Cassander froze and then slowly turned. Four simple words had caused his heart to stop beating, but not in the way that Hephaestion intended. "I see that you remember."

"Of course I remember," Cassander answered. For the first time he began to smirk, smile almost. How could he not remember Pella all of those years ago? It was the only day he could remember feeling as if he'd accomplished anything at all. "I remember if you are recalling the day that Alexander broke his father's prized wine goblet. You remember, the one he took from that wealthy Greek general that was massacred at Illyria. Is that the Pella you refer to?"

"Yes. Alexander would have been beaten, if not killed. However, you promised me that you could find one just like it."

"What was the cost of that again? Oh, yes, I remember now. Tell me, did you ever tell Alexander that the first intimate touch you ever received was from my own hand? Did you tell him how I massaged you until you drew blood from biting your lip?"

"No, and I have no intention of doing so."

"Why do you bring it up," Cassander asked. For the first time he was not sure of what Hephaestion was trying to point out. There was a confidence in Hephaestion that he'd not seen before now. Perhaps that bump on the head did him some good. Yet, why relieve the memory of Pella?

"Does it shame you? I am what, an Athenian whelp; is that what you called me? I know you still think it. You hate me for being so close to your king. He was supposed to be yours, is that not what you claim? Are you ashamed of touching me all those years ago?"

"Yes," Cassander lied.

"I think you liked it. I know you did, actually. I've never seen your eyes look at any other as they look when you look at me. Are you envious, or jealous? Do you lust for me when you go to sleep at night?"

"What is the point of this," Cassander questioned, turning his head away. He could not look at him. Nor did he want Hephaestion to see the pain in his face. It was hard to deny anything, even the simplest things, when looking at Hephaestion. If he had any talent it was this. He could convince men and women alike to lust for him, to love him, and he could do it without even trying. He was not even aware of such a talent.

"Why do you want me dead," Hephaestion asked.

"What?"

"I remember your hands, even after all of these years. I can remember the way that you touched me, and I can remember how delicate you were. If you wanted to kill me, you should have pressed harder against my neck. I haven't said anything to Alexander. I merely want to know why."

"I don't…"

"You do," Hephaestion interrupted. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You want me dead, and I want Alexander as my king. Finally, it seems as if we can both compromise and we'll both get what we want."

"What do you mean?"

"You want me dead, and I know that you wish an ill fate to Alexander as well. You've always been after his power. I, on the other hand, do not need his power. I merely want him as my king. I'm here to offer you a deal which will give us all what we want."

"I am listening," Cassander said as he sat down on a padded chair. Hephaestion sat across from him, looking like some sort of cunning killer. That head injury must have truly jarred something in him. Was he wiser, or was he more of a fool?

"Alexander will read something, a sort of apology, but he will not do it at the funeral tonight. He will not say a word until he next meets with the Companions. When he does read this apology, it will end with him saying something came over him. I will then stand and tell you all that I told him to do it. I'll say I told him of the plot against him, and that I framed Cleitus without the proper evidence. You can then order that I am to be killed. I will be defended by the king, however, you can declare he is not in the proper state to judge me. Have me taken to a cell. Then you will be free to beat me, and you can have me executed."

"Hephaestion," Cassander laughed. "You truly do amuse me."

"I am not joking in the slightest. You get to have me killed, which should thrill you, because then I'm no longer in your way. You can reclaim Alexander, since you believe I'm the only thing keeping your from it, and I can be left behind."

"And what are your terms?"

"Protect him. Leave him in power until his timely death. You will have no part in his death, only in his protection."

"What if I disagree, to all of this? What if I decide I like my plans better."

"Are you referring to the plans with Roxanne? Do not look at me as if I am daft. You are not the only one in this palace with some cunning abilities. Agree to this, on my terms, and you can use her as your whore all you like. Disagree, or try to go against me in the slightest, and you both will be set on a pyre tonight with Cleitus."

"Is that all," Cassander asked, knowing that he would have to go along with this. How could he not? With Hephaestion gone he'd be able to be Alexander's second in command. Eventually he would die, heirless, and he would be free to take over the Empire. By then, he'd father his own child with Roxanne, or some other woman, and it would all be his by right. Clearly the hit to the head had not bettered Hephaestion at all.

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"Where were you," Alexander asked Hephaestion as he entered the tent. Hephaestion had changed into the outfit for the funeral. It was solemn, and clearly Macedonian. Alexander had already put on the chiton that Hephaestion had selected for him. Still, he'd not known that Hephaestion had left the tent. He could not stand to think of him being alone again.

"I went to change," Hephaestion answered. "How are you? Are you sure that you're awake enough to attend? No one will hold it against you if you need your rest. Tomorrow, when the council is brought together again, you can attend. You can read the statement then. Have you read it over, by the way?"

"I have not had the heart to," Alexander answered. "I will attend though. I owe Cleitus at least that much. It is you that I fear for. The physician told you to rest, not to attend funerals. Are you sure that…"

"Alexander, I will be fine. I can barely feel it. It only hurts when it is touched. Believe me, I am fine."

"I would feel better if you would rest."

"It is Cleitus," he answered. "I must go."

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**Kitten: I can assure you that Cassander/Roxanne subplot will continue to cause some problems. However, you are right. Alexander is very protective of Hephaestion and should he find out that Cassander tried to kill his beloved, there would be hell to pay. You'll have to keep reading to find out if Alexander ever finds out about the plots. **

**Angstman: Thank you for noticing! I just think it makes a story interesting to have many angles. In the next chapter you can look forward to many PoV's from other characters at the funeral. **

**Queendel: Alexander had an amazing temper and dismissed all from his sight during his seclusion, excluding Hephaestion and Bagoas. Historically he commonly dismissed his guards, feeling that their presence kept him from concentrating or doing other things. Hephaestion is amazing, yes, for he never cared for himself. He was truly in the campaigns for Alexander, and Alexander alone. I am glad that this conveyed to an audience. **

**Candice: As you can see there is this deep history, which may be delved further into, between Cassander and Hephaestion. Cassander craves power, but there is still something that hold him back. All will continue to be revealed. I am glad you're enjoying the story! **

**All other readers: Thank you for continuing to read! Drop me a comment if you get time to let me know what you think. **


	7. The Funeral

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 7 of 11, "The Funeral"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

**A/N: No one panic! I assure you; Hephaestion will not be tortured and killed. As some have suspected there is something left out in his deal with Cassander. Since you know he will not die, keep reading, and it will get better. **

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

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_Hephaestion's PoV_

I wonder what the others are thinking. It is dark tonight, darker than I believe I've seen the night sky for some time. Flames from nearby candles light up the clearing, but apart from that there is nothing. The moon has taken her stars with her, hidden them away from us, and I fear that they may not come back. There was no reason for them to stare at him the way they did, at their king, and at the man that had long before become their friend when they'd had no other in the world. As we approached, I swallowed, and I feared for him. They were not looking at me, but instead were looking at Alexander. He did not seem to notice, and if he did he made no notion of it. I stopped a moment before continuing. I took my place amongst those that had come, higher generals for the most part, and cast my eyes upon the pyre. It is interesting how a pile of logs can become something to horrific to look at.

Cleitus seemed peaceful, and I noticed this before I noticed anything else about him. Many could have mistaken that he was merely sleeping. There was nothing special about his arrangement. His hands hung limply at his sides and there was no makeup to cover him. Only his hair had been washed, and he'd been dressed in a new chiton. It was hard to look at him and logically conclude that he was dead, and that he would not be waking up. That was the truth though, one I did not want to accept, but I was forced to. All men know when denial becomes a crude lie.

Alexander appeared to be solemn, as if he were saying a goodbye that none of us could hear. I managed to glance at him out of the corner of my eye before I looked away. I knew that he was going to be alright for the moment. I then began to stare at Cleitus, and I began to say a silent goodbye to him as well. _I am sorry,_ I thought quietly. For the first time I was feeling the guilt all over again. _I am sorry that I could not stop him. I am sorry that I left your body to tend to Alexander. I am sorry that I never came back. I am sorry that I was not stronger in the last few days, for I know you would have thought me weak for it. I am sorry Cleitus, so very sorry. _

I drew in another breath and tried to keep my composure. If tears came I knew I would be betraying not only Alexander, but also Cleitus, and myself. For a moment I forgot where I was. I closed my eyes quickly and then began to wring my hands together. This was the most uncomfortable situation I've ever been in. However, when I glanced at Cassander, I felt only worse about out entire situation. He was smirking, and at the same time he was picturing me on that pyre. If I would have had the gall I would have told him at that moment that he would never be able to see me upon a pyre.

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_Cassander's PoV_

He could have done better. It was the first thing that ran through my mind as I saw them both arrive, and together as fate would have it. The most disturbing realization that I came to was that I was not thinking of Alexander when I said he could have done better. I was thinking about Hephaestion, and I knew it to be true. Alexander could never love Hephaestion in the depths that he loves his king, and above all his truest friend. Hephaestion could have done better, and he likely should have. Fate seemed to hate us all. I meant that, they hated us all.

Hephaestion was ruined from birth I think. He does not inspire anyone to think he is a man, but at the same time he's not a woman either. It must be terrible to be between such opposites. He is ruined by the Fates in other ways as well. Simply to begin he is Athenian, and he is completely enveloped around Alexander. There is nothing free about him; freedom was sucked away from him years ago. The Fates hate him as much as they hate the rest of us. They merely hate him in a way that will tear him apart from the inside out. None of us will even see that he is longing until the day that it happens, and when he does he will not go through a quick drunken rage as Alexander or the rest of us would. No, Hephaestion is cursed. He will meet his end in one quick moment.

Alexander is cursed by the Fates as well. No one can say that he is not. His mother gave him madness. His father gave him rage. Together the combination produced Cleitus' death, as well as many of other things we may not be aware of. I wonder if he has any remorse for what he has done. Looking at him I cannot tell. He seems hollow at the moment, but I do not know what that means. I glance again at Hephaestion after I look at Alexander. Yes, Hephaestion could have done better. Even Hades knows that I would change my ways if I could receive just an ounce of love, the truest love, like the love that Hephaestion embraces Alexander with.

Even I am cursed by the damned Fates. There is nothing in the world for me, nothing at all. I do not even have the power that I wish to have. What is so wrong with me, I wonder, that I can have nothing to live for yet go on. Perhaps death was better for Cleitus. At least now he will not have to worry about being sent away. He won't have to worry about being forced to marry some woman that Alexander deems good enough for him. Maybe we all need death.

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_Ptolemy's PoV_

It is hard to understand any man that leaves his home to travel a road unnamed and never trekked upon before. To understand such a man you would have to be that man, or you would have to be following that man, hoping that his sense of direction was correct. Making new trails and new establishments is not to be feared, not if you are with a legion of men that know what they are doing. If they are remaking the world for their own cause, and it betters more than it hurts, then you too are doing well. However, to be with a legion led by a man that runs from his past you too run from your past and home, even if you do not mean to do so. By following Alexander, a man that runs from his past without stopping or regarding that there are others with him that are then forced to flee as well, we have all become the same man. We are all cowards, for we stand behind him, but we never stand up for ourselves. Yet, even now, we are cowards because not only have we forgotten ourselves, we have forgotten Alexander as well.

No matter what we may think of him now, as we stare upon the body of Cleitus, we still remember what Alexander has done for us all. He's taken us across the world and claimed it all for not only himself, but for us. With him we have gained wealth, wives, and an experience that cannot be matched by any other. There is nothing greater than that. Cleitus, like the rest of us, came along knowing the consequences. He knows, just like we all do, that in battles men die. Alexander kills, just like the rest of us, and does not ask us to do anything that he himself would not do. He kills men, yes, but is that so terrible? Does it make him a tyrant? To say that it does makes up all tyrants logically, but there are not many standing around the pyre now that like to think of logics. I can only find reasoning in Hephaestion, though at times I do not understand what wills him to go on loving Alexander unconditionally when events like this occur. Still, though he is the only other rational man here I know, he and I are able to speak on only rare occasions it seems. I admit that I do not seek him out, and he seeks out no other. He believes that we all view him as Cassander does, but that is not true.

I glance again in Hephaestion's direction and see him wringing his hands together. I look away and begin to wonder about my own feelings. I cannot decide whether or not I am going to miss Cleitus. He had no need to be slain, but for some time I've been thinking that Alexander should retire him. Just like older generals he could have given him a post and a fortune to sit on so as he could wed and have children. Alexander should have disposed of him in that way, not in the way he did. Yet, when I ask myself if I am going to miss him I am unsure. Perhaps I will, but I do not find it likely.

"Do you think he will do it," Cassander then whispered, an amused yet sickening smirk coming across his lips. Slowly I turned my head to meet his gaze, hoping not to draw any attention. "You give him too much credit."

Yes, I thought for a moment. I do give Alexander too much credit. I honor the fact that he has kept his childhood friends close to him. We are his generals when there are older and wiser men that could do just as good of a job as we do. I cherish the fact that he still speaks to me as if I am a friend, and I am allowed to address him as my friend. I am astounded that he has led us across the world and I am always amazed to think that we've never been defeated. I love the man as a leader, a friend, and as a man in general. Yes, perhaps I do give him to much credit because I pray for him when I pray for myself. Then again, if I give him too much credit is that not a good thing, for what else could I ever give him but the credit he is due?

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_Roxanne's PoV_

Fools. All of them are fools. They stand around their dead as if there is a feast to be had. I cannot understand their ways. I can not even begin to harbor the idea that if anything were to become of me I would be burned like they are going to burn him. I would as soon be thrown aside and left for the dogs. There is no reason for my being here either. I am a decoration, the apple in the mouth of the pig that is to be roasted.

Alexander stand near me, like that is any protection now. I raise my eyes to the only protection that I have at the moment. Cassander, and that is not even a protector that one can put their faith in. The more that I am with him the more that I grow fond of him. Physically he is a lover worthy of my body, whereas Alexander only wants his beloved Hephaestion. I spat on their love. I do not need love, not when I am with Cassander, and I do not even mind. Yet I fear that he uses me to get the power that he wants. Well fine, I shall use him for my own power. These Greeks are all unwise. They believe that women are to be the hearth and the home, that we merely bare them children and look elegant at their feasts. Well, they are fools. I will have just as much power as Cassander when I am done. If he thinks that I will bend to his will, he is wrong, for he bends to mine.

Yes, after all, Cassander is the weakest of them all.

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_Bagoas' PoV_

Shadows do not scare me. I hide in them as if they are my only home. I am not sad for doing such. I like what I do, and that is fine with me. There is much to know here. I am not sure if I wish to know about this funeral. There is pain in all of them as they circle him. Pain in all of them apart from Roxanne that is. She is heartless and always has been. She looks bored. Cleitus is dead, yet she still thinks she has a right to be bored. I would like to lock her in a harem. Then she can see what boredom is. Besides, she is a whore anyways. I keep lurking, and I keep waiting for them to light the pyre. I would never wish to rush Cleitus' rights. There is something that I must tell Hephaestion though. I must tell him, and soon, because if I do not it could cost him his life.

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_Alexander's PoV_

As soon as I step out I am met by their eyes. They all look first at Hephaestion then turn their glares to me. It is as if I have killed them all and I am entering the Underworld to walk with them endlessly on a path to redemption. There is nothing I can do to stop them from looking at me. Their glares burn me it seems but I continue forward. What else am I going to do? I take my place, and then I see Cleitus for the first time since I have killed him. He looks calm now, as if all is well with him. I glance toward Hephaestion, but then realize what I am doing. I am hiding behind him again. He is my strength, but I abuse such a right. As soon as I look away I can almost feel him carefully looking in my direction. Yes, he is my pillar, but for the first time I cannot lean against him. I endanger him, as is already clear, when I abuse him in the ways that I do.

_Cleitus, _I whisper so that no other can hear, _forgive me. I have wronged you for the last time, but in the worst ways. _

There is nothing else that I can say to him, not now. I see him when I sleep though. I can see his eyes in the dark corners that I pass. There is nothing I can do now though. Instead I continue to stare at him. Perhaps he will wake. I draw in a quick breath and then shut my eyes. I breathe in again, open my eyes, and take the torch. I lift it, step forward, and then I drop it underneath the pyre where the kindling is. Just like that orange flames leap up and begin to consume him. I have killed him, and now fire shall take him. What is to come after this shall be only worse. It will not be fixed for some time.

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**A/N: I am sorry for the short chapter and delay in posting. I was recently out of town on business. Hope this quick chapter keeps you entertained, and intrigued. Next chapter will have sexual content. Beware. **

**Angstman: I guarantee you that Hephaestion has a plan, and you soon will see it unfold. Until then, yes, the words of the Oracle are very much present. **

**30SecondsToMars: I did write Alexander to come off as weak after he has killed Cleitus. However, to regain his honor and power he cannot be stupid or weak, and in the next few chapters you'll see an Alexander we are all used to. **

**Queendel: Hephaestion indefinitely is going to protect Alexander, and does know (as all others do) that Alexander cannot go on without him. You are right, his plan will be one that will foil any plans he has made with Cassander. Cassander is ruthless, yet when it comes to Hephaestion he seems to waver, which is all the better for Hephaestion's plan. **

**Kitten: Thank you for the review of Hephaestion. I am glad that you're loving his character as much as I am. **

**SimonO: Thanks for the review. I assure you that Hephaestion will not die. I really hate it when Hephaestion dies so I try to keep him alive in all of my fics. He'll definitely live in this one, I promise. **

**Arlad: Thank you for reading, and for your review. I always appreciate your comments. I'm so glad that you're enjoying the characters. As the plot thickens and begins to clear let me know what you think! **


	8. Alive Once More

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 8 of 11, "Alive Once More"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

**A/N: No one panic! I assure you; Hephaestion will not be tortured and killed. As some have suspected there is something left out in his deal with Cassander. Since you know he will not die, keep reading, and it will get better.**

**WARNING: There is SEXUAL CONTENT in this coming chapter. **

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

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Night had once again crept over the lands, covering what once had been full of life. There was nothing left it seemed, nothing at all. The world had gone black, and even the fire that had consumed Cleitus had faded into oblivion, and as soon as his body was gone the others left. Alexander, on the other hand, was unmoving as he stared at the ashes that had piled up in a heap, a heap that he had created in his mistakes. He was alone, and for some time believed he would remain alone for the rest of his life, but then he heard footsteps. He'd told him to leave him, that it would be better for him, but perhaps Hephaestion was just as bold as he was.

"You needn't come," Alexander whispered, his voice drifting over the thin air and reaching out to Hephaestion, since his soul could not. He had not even turned to greet him, but instead kept his eyes upon the ashes. A slight wind was beginning to pick up little flecks of charred rubble, and it lifted these small flecks and began to carry them away, something that no other had been advised to do as of yet.

"I would like you to rest," Hephaestion whispered. "I think it would do you some good."

"Do you think they'll ever forget?"

There was a long pause as Hephaestion tried to search for an answer. In truth, he did not know what to say. There was so much that needed to be said, but could not be said it seemed, for the answer would be too incorrect to reply. Hephaestion drew in a soft breath, then, he shook his head. Alexander, now staring at him, let his eyes fall once more to his entwined hands.

"No one forgets," Hephaestion told him. "You know, as well as I, of the trees. Aristotle told us that the trees, in their roots and in their bark, can recall anything. It is the rings, Alexander, which they harbor deep beneath their bark where their truest soul hides. We are just like them, for men recall things at a moment's notice if they need or want to do so. They will not forget, but they will not need to remember, not if you show them that you have changed –that Cleitus was killed, yes, but for some sort of reason."

"How did you become so wise?"

"I am no wiser than any man," he assured his king, his friend. "It is merely what I believe; what I see from the men. They have followed you for years, and they have forgotten other things, some almost as barbaric as this. Soon this shall wan from their minds as well. It is merely a matter of time."

"What am I to tell them," Alexander then asked. "What reason could I ever give them for killing him?"

"Now is not the time to talk of such tragedies Alexander. Now you need to rest."

"As do you, but here you are. I fear that rest will never soothe me again. I am not worthy of it."

"Do not say such things," Hephaestion ordered as he placed his hand against Alexander's cheek, forcing him to look deep into his cerulean eyes. His breath, drifting against Alexander's skin now, felt warm. It was as if this guardian angel, sent by the gods, protected him from the world. He protected him no less on this night. Everything about him was wonderful. It was perfect, having only him near him. "You are worthy Alexander. There is nothing that you have ever not been worthy of. Listen to me, Alexander, you cannot give up on yourself. If you give up, then there will be nothing left of me. You're all that I've ever cared for, now and always, and without you I am nothing."

"Do you remember," he asked quietly, "when you told me you did not wish to lose me to this world? I should have stopped then. I am so lost now. You're all that I have left Hephaestion."

"Come," Hephaestion said soothingly, extending his arm for Alexander to take. "Sleep will clear your mind, for tomorrow you'll have to face them."

Alexander did not speak as Hephaestion led him back to his room. Even though the tents were much more suitable, for they did not smell like wet earth and stone, they were no longer safe it seemed. Alexander placed a hand on Hephaestion's arm to steady himself, and his guardian led the way. As they passed a wall Alexander slowed, staring at the drawings that had been placed there. Demons and ugly faced men stared back at Alexander, causing him to blink. Within a split second he saw his father, holding a lit torch, telling him about women and how they could not be trusted. He blinked, then reached up with his free hand to wipe his eyes.

"Alexander," he then heard, pulling him from where his memories were leading him. When he opened his eyes he saw Hephaestion leaning next to him. Hephaestion held one of his hands, and was staring at him as if he'd done something wrong. Alexander drew in a breath, and then glanced at his fingers. Had he tried to claw out his eyes? The question filtered into his mind, and as he looked at the red streak on his index finger, he began to wonder if this thought had validity. As he blinked Hephaestion reached forward and pressed a kiss against his forehead. For a moment Hephaestion gazed down at him, and then he began to rise.

"Where are you going," Alexander asked.

"You need rest," Hephaestion assured him. He glanced at him once more before a frown tried to escape him. His lips began to fall, but immediately Hephaestion put on his best smile, but it was a smile filled with pain. Alexander had known him too long. "I will see you in the morning."

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_Alexander's PoV_

I managed to close my eyes as he headed to the door. He stopped, as he always does, and glanced over his shoulder. He seemed satisfied that I was falling asleep, and then shut the door quietly behind him. As soon as the door shut my eyes opened, even though I knew that sleep would benefit me. Instead, I found myself staring up at the ceiling, and I could think of nothing. I drew in a short breath and then glanced at the door. I so badly wanted him to save me. I wanted him, more than anything, to be standing outside of the door. Slowly I pushed myself out of the bed and made my way to the door. I stopped, then hopefully opened the door. I opened the door, but no one stood on the other side that I cared to see. There were four guards, two of which I recognized as Hephaestion's, but he'd never been good with keeping guards. He seemed to think that he had the power to dismiss them from him, so that they could wait on me. Oh, how I hated when he did such as that.

"Milord," one of the men said, but I put my hand up to silence him. There was nothing that I needed him for. I drew in another breath, my lungs ached it seemed, and then made my way down these haunted hallways. When I arrived in Persia I found everything in perfect condition. Everything was beautiful, and secretly I prayed that Darius flee far enough so that I never find him. A man that kept such a home, even if there were merely slaved women to clean up after him, did not deserve death. Here was different though. Nothing was what it seemed, and instead of halls of gold, I walked amongst halls with demonic faces painted upon them. As I made my way past smells that I knew I would never be able to recall, I tried to push memories of Cleitus out of my head. I tried to swallow my own pain, but knew that I would not be able to. There was only one man in the world that could manage to make me feel as if I was meant to be here. I found myself standing before his door, pressing my forehead against cold, thick wood.

He was awake, this much I knew. There was a luminous glow, a soft sunset orange, coming from the small crack at the bottom of the door. However, even knowing that he was awake, I could not manage to knock. I did not even know how to enter. What could this possibly say about me? I could not even find the strength to push a door open. After a moment I closed my eyes, and merely placed my palms upon both sides of the door, and leaned against it. Within a few moments I almost forgot where I was, until the door opened, and I found myself wrapping my arms around Hephaestion.

Even before the door closed I found myself kissing him, needing him more than I ever had. I knew that he was the only one left that loved me, the only one that would even look at me, but something else drew me to him in those few moments. It was instinct, it seemed, as if he owned me. He did, and I knew that only months after when it was too late. I needed to please him, for my subconscious told me that I never had pleased him. Here we were, thousands of miles away from what we knew, and I was just now realizing that all he'd ever wanted was a home. Never had he cared where, he just wanted it to be with me. We'd stopped for months at a time, and each time he seemed so pleased, and I knew why finally. He'd hoped to stay. But we never had, and the first day of a new march had always made him look the way he had tonight when he had left my room. He wanted more.

"Alexander," he whispered against my cheek as he pulled away, and as both of his hands wrapped around mine so that he could still them. He drew back then, and I felt as if I had failed him once more. Perhaps he no longer wanted me. How could I please him, I, being such a barbarian? Instead of rejection, he stared at me with kind eyes, as if he were again concerned with my actions. He reached up and touched a small scrape at the corner of my eye, which I had done myself, and then he leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against mine.

There were no words to say after that, just an understanding that Hephaestion could always find. He followed me to his bed, not saying a word, but knowing that I did not wish to speak yet. He did not ask me to, and I know that I was selfish not to let him stop. I knew that he wanted to say something, his lips parted, yet nothing coming from them. Not even a breath seemed to leave him as I tossed my clothes onto the floor and lay back on the bed. There was nothing sensual about my actions. I was nothing like him. He could seduce me with just a simple look, making my loins burn, and I would feel as if there were no air in the world. However, I had nothing compared to him, so I knew there was nothing more for me to do but to lay there.

I knew what he would do, even before he was going to do it. As soon as he untied his robe he gently removed it, as if the silk were going to tear. He was always so careful with anything, and everything, I had ever given him. Never did he ask for anything, and never would he, but still he would care for it as if it were his pride and joy. Yes, I could give him a hundred robes, and each one he would cherish the same. Never did he spill anything on them, and never would he ask for another. At times I would have to have attendants, such as Bagoas, go through his wardrobe to find the garments that were beyond repair. He would never get rid of them, if he had the choice. He'd keep the scraps of clothing from home, if I would let him. Why didn't I? I never knew, just figured he did not need unsuitable clothing. Yet, now I was beginning to think that perhaps they were not just garments to him, but something more.

As soon as the robe left him, he stood perfectly before him, wearing nothing by a sapphire ring I had given to him long ago. No, he had not asked for it, but I knew that it would go with his eyes. Slowly, he did what I knew he would do next, he placed a hand on the bed, preparing to hover over me. If I would let him he would cover my body with his perfected kisses, and he would caress me, and in the end I would feel a euphoria that would never be matched. However, tonight was not about me, it was about him.

When he made his move, and began to kiss my chest, I placed my hands upon his forearms. I pushed him away from me, if only to turn him onto his back. I then straddled him, kissing every inch of him. I am not as great of a lover, not compared to him. Where he is soft, and each touch is perfect, each kiss measured, I am hard, my hands cannot seem to be as gentle, and my kisses vary. Some are long, some short, each one different. Yet he does not seem to mind, for he moans deeply in his throat and pulls me closer. By the time he pulls me closer he is on the brink of that euphoria that I so desperately wish to give him. When I take him, he moans my name, a sign that he perhaps does need me as much as I need him, and he then releases.

I wrap my arms and hold him, as he always does with me, and I listen to his breathing. Carefully I continue to press kisses against his neck, shoulder, and then his back. As he turns to look over his shoulder at me, he smiles, and I know that I have given him at least a moment's happiness. Oh, how I love him. I have never meant to hurt him, but have, and I wish never to do such again.

"Tomorrow," I whisper, "I will be strong. I never will leave you Hephaestion."

"And I," he promises an hour later, whispering when he believes I am sleeping, "will never let you go before me."

I am not sure what this means. I would like to ask him, but he seems to be asleep. Perhaps these were words he spoke in a dream. Either way, whether he were dreaming or directly speaking to me, such words worry me. What could they possibly mean?

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**A/N: Thanks to Queendel, Kitten, Sunny-seid-up, and Arlad for reviewing. I know I should reply to each of you, but I am in a bit of a time crunch. Sorry for the long delays to everyone, and thank you all for reading! See you at the next chapter. **

**Leave a comment! I love them all! **


	9. The King Returns

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 9 of 11, "The King Returns"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

**A/N: No one panic! I assure you; Hephaestion will not be tortured and killed. As some have suspected there is something left out in his deal with Cassander. Since you know he will not die, keep reading, and it will get better.**

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

Special Note: Thanks everyone for waiting patiently for this update. This tale should be finished by the end of the week.

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Sunlight, rays of a pale saffron, gently cast shadows away from the land. These warm beams of life slowly brought the day to life. The dew on the grass began to drip to rich soil beneath its hanging blades, and a family of sparrows chirped gaily. The sparrows dropped to the ground where they drank from a small puddle, not too muddy to drink from. Sipping they then lifted up, the wind pushing their thin wing feathers up. They soared through the trees for a moment, not aware of what was watching them. The eagle sat perched on a dead tree limb, dark and silent. Beady eyes watched these sparrows and summed up each move that they made. Another soft gust of wind lifted the small sparrows, but the eagle did not move just yet. It did not move for some time, not until the opportune moment came. Only when the predator knew that it would come out victorious did it move. A screech pierced the silence and the predator dove off of the dead limb, leaving the decaying bark behind. With two flaps of its great wings the eagle had gained enough speed. The sparrows, now aware of the oncoming attack, scattered in the air. Each of the smaller birds tried to find a tree to duck into. The most beautiful of the sparrows, her body being perfectly plump and her form perfect, was not fast enough though. With one small curve she lost speed, the wind changing directions, and she was blown off course. Sharp talons wrapped around the sparrow, piercing her breast, and she let out a startled cry. The eagle continue to squeeze, and calmly returned to its perch upon the malignant tree. As the creature lifted the sparrow it let out another earth shattering cry, this one loud enough to wake the dead.

Hephaestion sat up immediately, sweat forming upon his brow, and glanced at the body beside him. Not willing to wake Alexander as of yet he stealthily crawled out of the bed and covered his tanned, bare shoulders with a majestic red robe. The stone was cool beneath his bare feet, but still he was able to creep quietly across the room. He tied the sash at his waist and then made his way to the door. Alexander slept soundly, not close to waking yet from his night's passion, and Hephaestion made sure to close the door quietly. Hephaestion entered the hall and strode past the horrific faces painted there. He paid no attention to any onlookers, but instead made his way to the wash room. Halfway there, however, he found that he no longer wished to rid his face of the sweat he felt there. Instead he reached up with a hand and wiped sweat from his brow, then stormed further down the hall.

He had to shield his eyes from the brightness that enveloped him as he stepped out onto the grass. The dew from the grass was wet, and provided him with a slight start, but the rest of the ground was warming up. Even though he had to protect his eyes from the sun he did not slow down. Instead he crossed over the verdant grass, searching for the source of the newest cry from the beast that had woken him. As he approached the eagle lifted another torn, feathered piece of flesh and tore at it with its beak. Hephaestion screamed, saying nothing at all, but still the bird did not seem to notice him. Again he screamed, this time louder, and he bent down to pick up a smooth stone. He palmed it, weighing it, and then threw it in the direction of the heap of dead branches that the royal eagle was perched upon. The eagle seemed to mock him. It rose from the branches, then took flight, and it teasingly dropped the shredded carcass near Hephaestion. Hephaestion picked up another stone and hurled it at the bird as it flew off into the morning horizon. As soon as it was out of sight he fell to the ground.

The smell of freshly trodden upon soil filled his nose as he breathed in, his forehead pressed against the ground. He tried to remain calm though. He tried to remind himself that it was merely a bird, nothing more. There were no preminitions from the gods, nor had there ever been. Part of his soul found him silly for believing in such things. The other half reminded him that it would be foolish to go against the gods. Either way, he was cursed, was he not? Hephaestion drew in another breath then pushed himself up. Silently he strode across the grass once more, and he did not utter a word until he was reaching the steps of the new halls they inhabited.

"Take this message for me Hermes," he mumbled under his breath. "Curse bloody Zeus, who bore a hero they call Alexander, only to line him up for failure. I curse Zeus. Tell him that."

It was not his place to curse a god, but he did not care. He was sick of signs, whether they be eagles or clouds, or any other odd thing they came across. Fuck the gods, he thought, for clearly they were not looking out for him or for Alexander. Had they been Cleitus would still be alive, for no matter how hard he tried, he could not think of a reason that Cleitus' death was good. Only he was protecting Alexander now, and today would be his trial. He cursed Zeus once more, and once more there was an absence of a lightning bolt.

Cassander on the other hand had been watching the scenes of the morning as well. He had watched the eagle stalk its prey, and had seen the sparrow's plight as it died. It had not interested him though. He only became interested when he saw Hephaestion walking towards the trees in a red robe, which did not cover much. He was a fool to walk into the forests alone, but who knew, perhaps this was some game he was playing with Alexander. Calmly he lifted the wooden cup to his lips again and took a sip of the goat's milk he had found. Even though Hephaestion interested him, he did not understand his intentions at first. It appeared as if at first he were yelling at someone, but instead he seemed to only be screaming at the eagle. _Interesting_, Cassander thought, _he is now the blue-eyed protector of kings and of sparrows._ The title suited him, for Alexander was his first priority, but now it seemed the sparrow was his second.

Next Hephaestion threw a stone, to no avail, and the eagle soared away. The blue-eyed beauty then fell to the ground. Cassander watched him, even somewhat attractive in a heap on the dirt, and was rudely interrupted by Roxanne. She asked what Hephaestion was doing, and Cassander put his hand over her mouth, for she was far too loud. The barbarian queen did not like this, and she quickly strode away. Cassander was not going to complain either, for he was losing interest in her. She pleasured him, but only for a few moments. The pleasure never remained. In truth, he found more pleasure in watching Hephaestion than he did in her. Hephaestion was a challenge, not someone that merely would lie beneath him. There was so much to try to comprehend, but still, he did not understand what was going through Hephaestion's mind.

Some moments later Hephaestion began his trek back toward the hallways. He muttered something, and it brought a smirk to Cassander's lips. He did not need to hear Hephaestion to understand what he was saying. He too had cursed the gods, and all men cursed them in the same way. The formatting was the same, only the name of the god changed. Cassander himself had never believed in the gods. His father had taught him to play along, yes, but that they would not determine your fate. Still, as Hephaestion stopped his curses, Cassander glanced toward the sky out of the corner of his eye. There, thankfully, was no lightning bolt. Apparently Zeus had better things to do on this morning.

He took another drink, draining the rest of the milk, and then set the cup down. Standing, he glanced at his room. Roxanne had left, taking her personal items with her, which was a blessing. He did not need to be caught with her things in his room. There would be too many questions, and he did not want to have to deal with that at the moment. Cassander crossed the room confidently, never faltering, and opened his door. The moment he stepped out into the hall he collided, accidentally, with Hephaestion. Hephaestion raised an arm instantly, as if expecting a fight, and Cassander just stared at him for a moment.

"A moment," Cassander said, then stepped into his room. No matter how angry Hephaestion was, he would never walk away. It was not in his character. He tried to please too many, and never pleased himself. Hephaestion shut the door behind him as Cassander poured another cup of goat's milk. He poured one for Hephaestion, not caring whether or not Hephaestion was thirsty. Clearly he had just woken up, why would he not be thirsty? Hephaestion made no further moves though, and Cassander practically had to force the cup into his hand.

"Hard morning," Cassander asked. Hephaestion did not reply, but instead drank. He downed the contents of the cup and then set it down before looking around the room. "It is nothing compared to yours, I am sure. I keep nothing clean, so forgive the mess."

Since when, he wondered, had he become cordial? Never before had he explained a mess in his chambers. He had never needed to before, so why start now? Had he not known any better he would have assumed that Hephaestion was some sort of demi-god that had a power to control him. Hephaestion still did not speak, so he did not rule out that possibility.

"You know, there are no gods," Cassander said. "It was a bird, nothing more."

"I know," Hephaestion snapped back.

"There are some," Cassander continued, his tone lower, "that believe this journey is killing the men slowly. Ptolemy spoke with a man in the jungle, his face painted white, that told him sickness of the soul comes from these lands. Perhaps we all have it."

"Perhaps."

"You, however, were halfway dead to begin with." Only then did Hephaestion look at him. He either did not understand, or he was angry. Perhaps it was a mixture of the two, that look, but Cassander could not tell. He feared that if he stared into those cerulean eyes for too long, he'd lose himself. "Merely a thought."

"What is it that you want?"

"Today," Cassander said, biting in to a small piece of fruit that Roxanne had left on the platter, "the king returns to court. There are only two ways for him to be accepted. Either he is a pig, or he is a pig with an apple shoved in its mouth."

"He will return as Alexander."

"Oddly enough, it is not him that I worry about. I worry about you."

"There is no need to," the other assured him. "Everything will go according to plan. Alexander will regain his full title, without question, and I am yours to maim, torture, and kill."

"Even the eagle did not torture the sparrow."

"The chase was frightening enough."

"I have never chased you," Cassander replied. "I must say that still I do not understand. If you leave Alexander behind, when what is he to do? If you die do you think that he will be able to go on? If so, you give him too much credit. He is strong, yes, but not that strong."

"I did not think that you would be the one to back out of a deal."

"No, never. I just wish to better understand you," he admitted. "You have always been sick in the soul. Alexander possessed you from a young age, and by all of the world I wish he would have chosen me. You have power, Hephaestion, a power that all would want to have. Never have you used it. If you ask me, you are the stronger one. I do not see him throwing his life down to protect your name. He would have had to do so long ago when I began calling you a whore."

"Perhaps you are right," Hephaestion said as he turned, ready to leave. "Maybe I was dead long before today."

Cassander watched him go, still feeling that he had gotten nowhere. Already he knew what he was supposed to do, and he would do it. Yet at the same time he could not image waking to find a day without Hephaestion. Yes, he knew that Alexander would turn to him perhaps, but he did not wish for him to do so if it meant that he was a second choice. Sighing, he sat down. What, possibly, was going through the mind of Hephaestion Amyntor?

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He chose a white chiton, and a blue length to hold over his shoulders. Alexander smiled and took it from Hephaestion, who then shut the chest once more. He had even found a wreathe, with matching white flowers, for him to wear. It was amazing what Hephaestion could do in a matter of moments. Alexander changed, then let Hephaestion brush out his hair. Something was wrong though, and had been, but still he did not know what it was. Had it been something he had done?

"You seen distressed," Alexander finally said. Hephaestion glanced up, delivering not even a sliver of hope, and shook his head. There was no further answer. Instead, he continued to busy himself with blond masses of hair. Alexander waited for a moment, hoping that Hephaestion would say something, but he did not.

"Did I displease you," he asked.

"You could never displease me," Hephaestion responded, his answer quick. He set the comb down and placed a hand on Alexander's shoulder. He then wrapped his other arm around him, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to his temple. "If you never remember another thing I say, remember that. You are everything to me, and never could you displease me."

"I feel as if you're saying goodbye."

"No," he said, soothing Alexander with a warm smile. "I am going nowhere."

Hephaestion continued to prepare him for the meeting. Alexander knew how important it was, for here he would give his speech. Still he'd not read it through, but knew that Hephaestion would have everything prepared. He should have written it himself, but had not been in the condition to, and last night was perfect. They would decide his fate today. Either he was a tyrant, or Cleitus had been killed for a reason. Still he could not in his own mind determine what the outcome would be. However, it looked as if Hephaestion already knew an answer, and it was not one that seemed to be pleasing him.

"You liked the mountains," Alexander said suddenly. Hephaestion glanced up, finished now with Alexander's hair. It had never looked so perfect, even though he'd merely brushed out the tangled knots. "I remember you saying that it was so simple, and that life must be easier where so few could reach you. How did you say it…"

"If the troubles of the world cannot reach you," Hephaestion answered, remembering his words precisely, "then there are no troubles in the world."

"Yes," Alexander said with a nod. "There are no troubles in the mountains, and you liked it there."

"Why are you suddenly thinking about mountains? Are we preparing to move out again? I warn you, I do not believe the men are ready yet. Give them some more time. Give them time to remember what standing still is like."

"No, I mean for us. If I have to fight for the empire, I will. Yet if I must choose between you, and this empire, then I choose you. Would you mind living in the mountains, without all of this?"

"Alexander," Hephaestion said as he dropped down before Alexander. He kissed the back of Alexander's hand, then held on tightly. "This empire is nothing without you. It is yours, and only yours. They are not going to take anything from you. Yes, I loved the mountains, but I know you Alexander. Never will you stand still for long. For some time you may remain in the mountains, but you'd just start a new army, and you'd begin again. But we would be much older then, and they would not write as many stories. I know you. You'd never be content in the mountains, for you love the troubles of the world, for you plan to fix them. Then, not even in the lowest valley or flattest plain will a man see troubles."

"I would live a thousand lives in the mountains, if I could live them all with you."

"Why stay in mountains when you have me now, here with you, in this empire that is yours?" Hephaestion carefully placed his palm against Alexander's cheek. "Believe me, it is your empire. Stop fretting. I will be behind you the entire way."

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Cassander wanted to scream when he saw Hephaestion enter the room. He wanted to tell him that he was a fool, and that no matter what deal they had struck, it was not worth it. Hephaestion did not even make eye contact with him. Instead he sat down next to Alexander's seat. Alexander remained standing, and he prepared to read. At the beginning it seemed as if Alexander himself had written it, even though Cassander knew for a fact that Hephaestion wrote it. What game was Hephaestion playing! It was halfway through when Alexander gave his reason for killing Cleitus. He still firmly believed, or so he read, that Cleitus had been plotting against him. However, the real shock came toward the end, and Cassander felt his stomach knot. Alexander continued to read, became confused, but the words had already been spoken.

"…It has come to my knowledge that Cleitus was not the only one involved, but instead someone much closer to me was planning to betray me. Hephaestion has taken responsibility…."

"No," Ptolemy whispered, his eyes gazing in Hephaestion's direction. Alexander stopped reading, and immediately he turned to Hephaestion. Hephaestion stood, now the center of attention, and began to speak. Cassander shook his head all the while, urging him silently to stop. No, he did not stop though. Cassander had known all along that he would not.

"I encouraged Cleitus to go against Alexander," Hephaestion lied. Clearly no one believed him, but no one was going to challenge him either. "I told Alexander of Cleitus' betrayal, and mine, for I feared the plan would not work. Hence, this is a fault of mine, not Alexander's. I have been dishonest, and I know that my punishment is going to death. I accept such terms, and ask that Alexander have no part in my punishment."

"Hephaestion," Alexander exclaimed. "What are you doing? What you are saying is foolish. We both know that you had nothing to do with it."

"Alexander," Hephaestion said quietly, but so that others could still hear. "There is no need to protect me any longer."

"Hephaestion!"

"Take him away," Cassander whispered. Thank the gods he was loud enough. The others turned to look at him, even Alexander. "I am sorry, Alexander. But with such an admission, we know the punishment."

Alexander grabbed Hephaestion's arm, but it did not help. Hephaestion did not struggle as the guards took him away. Alexander screamed, but was held back. Cassander continued to watch, pain filling him, and he saw Hephaestion glance over his shoulder as he left. Even through this there was still a hint of a smile upon his lips. He nodded once, and then turned away. Alexander continued to scream, and the guards held him. By the time they let him go, Hephaestion was very likely chained. Cassander lifted a hand to his chin as Alexander chased after him.

"Cassander," Ptolemy said, "tell us that this is not so."

"Alexander has the empire," Cassander answered. "Hephaestion has protected him once more. What else would you like me to say?"

"Cassander!"

"In order for Alexander to return, we would have to determine that he was right in killing Cleitus. The only viable reason would be if Cleitus was against him. Since Cleitus is not here, there would have to be another involved to confirm the plot against Alexander. If," he said after taking in another breath, and trying not to break into hysteria, "not Alexander is a tyrant. Draw your own conclusions."

"Wait," Nearchus spat, "you knew of this! Hephaestion is innocent!"

"Yes," Cassander agreed. "Yet in the records, Alexander will be innocent and Hephaestion will be guilty. Unless, however, we find a way to help him."

"You don't have that planned out," shouted Ptolemy.

"No, not yet. But give me time. An execution does not need to occur today. Tomorrow, though, is the waning of the moon. It'll have to be tomorrow, based on tradition."

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**A/N: Thanks for the review of the last chapter to Queendel. Hope that everyone is still enjoying! Let me know, comments always help. **


	10. Imprisonment

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 10 of 11, "Imprisonment"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

**A/N: Thanks for being patient with me. Again, Hephaestion will not die.**

Dedication: For the readers!

Special Note: As always, thank you for reading!

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He couldn't say it was as torturous as he'd heard. It was dark, and it was dank, but it was not terrible. Only one torch hung upon the wall, almost out of oil, and its light was minimal. It smelled of blood and death, sweat and misery too, but one could ignore it. Water slid down the cracks in the walls, and mold now covered many of the elegant stones. Those not covered in mold were covered in blood, decaying remains, or worse, fecal matter and urine. Hence, it was cold, but it was the type of cold that sunk into bone. The cold was not even the worse of it though. The clanking of chains against solid metal bars, unbendable and unbreakable, was the worst of the conditions. Already he knew what the clanking did. It drove men insane, a useless prattle that no longer had and relevance, for there were not even guards to listen. Here men were left to rot, as Dionysus' followers had claimed, since this was undeniably still a piece of Persia. No, perhaps it was its own region, a new hell that many had come to call Scamander.

The clanking went on, even though it was already echoing in his head. The ache was spreading from the left side of his head to the right. Then the noise stopped. When this useless noise ceased, so did the sound of suffering; there was nothing left to be heard. It did no good, shuffling back and forth. Now he knew as well that the noise, although at first somewhat comforting, was no better for him. Resolved, Hephaestion slowly made his way to the back of the cell. Even though the conditions were at best deplorable, he sunk back against the wall, trying to avoid anything that he would hate to have upon him, and then slid silently to the floor. No, it was not as torturous as he had heard, for he'd not yet been tortured. It was enough, however, to make him feel as if all hope were gone. In fact, he rather much believed that all hope was gone now. For hours he had been waiting, running the metal cuffs upon his wrists over the bars for company all the while, and still there was no sign of Cassander –or any other for the matter.

He glanced up, hearing footfalls, and finally he felt as if a shred of hope was restored. High above, at the top of the slick stairs, he heard Alexander speaking to the guards. The king raised his voice, for he was still the king, and then there were footfalls. As they drew nearer Hephaestion tried to contain himself. He tried not to listen to the clanking that still rang in his head, and instead he tried to listen to the thudding of his heart. Alexander's foot came into view first as he approached, then his legs, and at last he had made it all the way down the stairs without incident. Hephaestion remember slipping on the way down, and as a consequence he skinned his elbow badly. Yet he was not treated as a felon of any sorts. Darren, one of the guards that had led him down here, had provided him with an ointment for the wound, and even gave him a piece of gauze. They were, after all, his people none the less. Alexander did not falter though, and as he crossed the small room he looked like a god. Hephaestion could not decide which god he looked more like. It was between Apollo, Zeus, and perhaps even Eros. Sadly he only looked like Ares when he was dressed for battle. The thought of it, even though he hated the violence and blood, was appealing compared to this.

"What did you do," Alexander asked. His voice seemed fragile and torn. Already his companion knew where his emotions were bound. Part of Alexander deeply wanted to be angry, to scream and yell. Perhaps even breaking something, or starting a small battle, would have eased him. Yet there was the young Alexander, from his youth, hidden even beneath that. It was there that his voice cracked, faltered, and tried to hold firm before slipping away into nothingness. He was scared, hurt, tormented, and confused. Many said that Alexander could conquer anything, but it was not true, and Hephaestion was one of the only individuals in the world that knew this. Alexander could not conquer something that did not physically exist. He could not master his pain, or his confusion, for it always changed, as it had now.

Hephaestion stood, not bothering to say anything yet. He came closer, and Alexander immediately wrapped his arms around him. His lover pulled him close and only the bars separated them, or they would have appeared to be one being. Alexander continued to hold him, trembling, and then a tear slipped from the corner of his eye. Hephaestion still said nothing, and instead remained completely still. Again he recalled a thought that he'd had long ago. It was true that one could not know what they would miss, or value, most in life. They could not know until it was taken away. Silence lingered in the room, a deathly silence, and Hephaestion glanced at the small flickering flame of the torch. It would go out soon, and then it would be gone. It would be thrown away, erased from any memory, and would never be spoken of again. He could not help but thinking his life would be just like that of the flame.

"What were you thinking," Alexander asked, his voice shaking once more. He pulled away, just enough to see Hephaestion's eyes. Hephaestion stared back at him for a moment, then softly smiled. Already he could hear footfalls again. They were coming to take Alexander away. He was still king, yes, but not by much. Many of his privileges had been taken away, including his right to converse with Hephaestion. Hephaestion was a prisoner now, nothing more. He had to keep reminding himself of this change.

"Do not be scared," was the reply that Hephaestion gave quietly to Alexander. He reached out, placing his palm against Alexander's cheek, and whispered the same words again. He knew exactly what Alexander wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that it was some sort of trick, and that he'd not written the statement after all. However, no matter how much he wanted to please him, Hephaestion knew that he could not.

"Hephaestion, I don't understand."

"Everything happens for a reason," he told him. They were coming down the stairs now. Any moment they would come, and they would have to take Alexander from him. He drew in a breath, and tried not to let his pain escape in his words. "I will always love you Alexander."

"No," the king interjected. "I know what you're doing Hephaestion. I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me. This kingdom is not everything to me. You, you are everything! I'd rather lose it all than lose you Hephaestion."

"Go to Cassander," Hephaestion whispered into Alexander's ear as he leaned in close. The guards, employed for the moment by Cassander, had come for Alexander. Upon uttering his instructions he let Alexander go. Alexander took a step back, glanced over his shoulder, and then drew in a breath. Confusion was woven into his brow, but Hephaestion nodded ever so slightly. Alexander left without much of a fight after this.

Hephaestion watched him go and then returned to his seat upon the dank floor. Slowly he turned his head to the left. Never before had he been in such a room, so when he saw the half decayed arm hanging from an old metal chain he was shocked. Mouth agape he pushed himself up, slamming into the bars, and instantly regretted such a decision. In the last few days he'd found more pain than he had in the last battle he'd fought beside Alexander. However, the only pain that would not heal over time was the hole he felt within his heart knowing that Alexander would not be with him.

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He heard him before he saw him, which was not at all surprising. Alexander had a way of entering a room, especially when he was in such a rage. Cassander glanced at the door when Alexander slammed it shut, half expecting it to fall from the hinges, but there were good architects in Scamander it appeared. Instead of drawing a dagger, or any other weapon for the matter, Alexander crossed the room in a blur. His hands would work well enough as a weapon. Instantly his hands were around Cassander's throat and Cassander was pressed firmly against a wall. Cassander was used to this positioning. He could not say that he had learned to value it though.

"He will be fine," Cassander said after a moment. It was then that Alexander released him. Clearly Alexander was angry, which was understandable, but at the same time Cassander liked the position he was now in. He held a power that Alexander had not been in a position to have. For the first time, he had an upper hand, and part of him wished to keep this. However, at the same time, even his heart was breaking for Hephaestion.

"He is wiser than even you give him credit for," Cassander muttered. "Do you think that he is sitting in chains now because he is a fool?"

"You bastard, you have no right…"

"Alexander, let us be friends now. Listen to me, otherwise, neither of us will be able to help him." Cassander waited for Alexander to calm. It took less than a minute, but with Alexander one never knew. Alexander could at any moment erupt again, like a volcano spewing lava, except volcanoes did not spew death sentences. "Hephaestion came to me, and he made me a deal. Sadly, it is one that if I keep I'll surely win, but I will also surely lose. In truth, if he dies, we all die. There is not a man amongst us that does not know that your sanity lies in his cerulean eyes, and your pleasure in his thighs."

"You…"

"Ah, ah, ah," Cassander warned. "We are friends. Harming me only will keep Hephaestion in that cell. Without me, tomorrow he will be killed, as he stood before the Companions and begged for. That, I assure you, is not in his plan."

"He never mentioned any plan to me. You are behind this, aren't you! Do you think I do not know how you envy him?"

"Alexander, you were in no position to comprehend what Hephaestion has come up with. He is a modern Odysseus I fear –too smart to save his own damned soul."

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A/N: I know, forgive the evil cliffhanger. I hope you don't mind too much. I assure you, in the last chapter all shall be revealed. The last chapter will be longer as well, so hopefully it will present a more valuable read.

Queendel, Arlad, and Sunny-seid-up ---Thank you all so much for continuing to read and review. Queendel, your reviews are always very helpful to help me perfect my writing and I adore your comments and opinions. Arlad, you are very wise, and always honest. It is a joy to see your reviews as well. Sunny-seid-up, I love the penname, but I also want to personally thank you for being a fan. It is wonderful to see that you are reading, and that you take the time to review.

To all my readers ---You have no idea how appreciative I am for your time. Thanks for reading, and I really mean this. Without you, I am nothing.


	11. The Decision of the Council

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 11 of 11, "The Decision of the Council"

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

**A/N: Thanks for being patient with me. Again, Hephaestion will not die.**

Dedication: For the readers!

Special Note: As always, thank you for reading!

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Light from the candle slowly fell across the open drawer, and a white drop of wax formed at the edge of the unevenly held candle. This small bead of wax continued to build up until it dropped and fell directly upon a piece of old parchment. A thick piece of parchment was then lifted, next to the already ruined piece, and was overturned. It was scanned, looking for a certain penmanship, and when it was not found it was tossed onto a comfortable sofa. Cassander picked up another opened letter and looked over the first few sentences. The sentences were too short, and the words were too closely crammed together, as if the author only had this one piece of parchment to write upon. He began to hum a tune, which he'd already hummed twice while looking at the archived letters he had, and tossed this piece aside as well. Without hesitation he picked up another letter and began to look it over.

"Here," Cassander said as he handed the letter over to Alexander. Alexander looked at him for a moment, unsure of what made this parchment different than the last. He tried to read it in the faint light and finally took the candelabra from Cassander. He lit a few small candles that sat next to a shrine of Ares, and then knelt down. Cassander snatched his candelabra back, set it upon the top of the drawer, and then went on humming. Alexander, on the other hand, struggled to read –or even see- the letter that Cassander had handed him. It was still too dark, even with the candles, and he could barely make out a world. The ink seemed to blur as he stared at it.

"How do you know it is from him," Alexander asked. He wanted to get closer to the candles, but knew better than to do so. If the letter caught fire they may not have another chance. Cassander was not paying attention at the moment though. Instead he continued to toss letters aside, completely destroying what he had conveniently taken over as his lair. Alexander glanced around the small cave, not far from their lodgings, and it began to make sense. So this was what Cassander carried with him all of these years. There were two idols of Ares, a few candles, a candelabrum, and an oak cabinet filled with letters not meant for him.

"You really should not speak," Cassander finally replied. He'd stopped humming and had glanced over at his king. "I have a method, and if you keep talking, I cannot follow the method."

"I was only curious," Alexander said. He glanced around this cave once more and wondered how Cassander had found the time to search it out. Clearly he took pride in keeping the letters of others. Alexander was angry, yes, but at the moment could do nothing about it. Even though having the letters showed perfectly how cunning Cassander was, they also were going to help Hephaestion at the moment, and the second fact triumphed over the first.

"The paper is different," Cassander explained after a long silence. Alexander had not expected this, and was immediately pulled away from his nervous thoughts. Cassander did not look up, and it appeared as if he were only speaking to the dark envelope of thick air that surrounded him. He sifted through another few letters, and then picked up another stack. This stack he immediately tossed aside. Then, he went on. "He takes pride in his work, more so than any other. The edges of the paper are always perfect, and the sheets are always crisp. They are always folded in the same manner. The words are always spaced at margins, all equal, at the top, bottom, and sides. His writing is elegant, regal, and perfectly straight as if he is creating some piece of art. It even smells different."

"I still don't see what this will prove," Alexander admitted. "Hephaestion stood before the Council and told them that he helped Cleitus plan an attack against me. He even wrote the speech that I was reading. How are his letters going to help him now?"

"For all of the reasons I just gave to you. He penned what you read, yes, but he did not write it. We will show the Council these, and then your speech, and they will be able to see the differences. Above that, there is something else in here that I am looking for."

"What else could you possibly have stolen, merely to hide?"

"Nothing that I am willing to tell you of just now," he answered. "Do not worry, Hephaestion is strong. Besides, I am the only one authorized to torture him."

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As he coughed he put his hand over his mouth. For a moment he feared that perhaps he had caught something, some malaria of sorts, and would not make it out of this dungeon alive after all. Silently Hephaestion glanced over at the halfway decomposed arm that hung upon the wall to his left. He considered removing it, tossing it somewhere where he could not see it, but could still not bring himself to do so. He wondered where the rest of the man was. He tried not to think of such things, such depressing things, but could not avoid it. If he died here, what would become of him? He'd never thought about his death before, not as much as he was thinking of it now. If he was still considered Alexander's enemy, then he would likely not be given a ceremony, and he'd rot here as well. As this dawned upon him he drew in a breath.

_"Fortune favors the bold,"_ he recalled Olympias telling him once. He could not even remember why she had been speaking to him, but he could hear her voice. It was odd, for he had not even been thinking of her. Yet, her words gave him courage, even if he could not understand why. _"You are subtly intrepid, my blue-eyed one. Fate shall be kind to you, even when it appears that it is marring you. Remember this, for when beside my son, even the gods shall envy you. They'll look for impediments to put forth before you, and each one you shall combat, and if you heed my words you shall always come out victorious." _

He wondered if her words were true. Even after thinking it through he decided they could not be. Gods were not watching them. Fate had nothing to do with his life, nor with any other man's. For some time now he had known the truth. One's life was in their own hands, and such could never be changed. They could hide behind a thousand facades, and still, they would be the owner of their own power. Gods had not put impediments before him. Instead, these events had come to be, and it was just a coincidence that Alexander seemed to find all of the troubles in the world. However, it made sense. Alexander crossed the world, so of course he ran into more troubles.

"Alexander," he whispered, just to hear his own voice. There was no one to talk to, and he had been here for almost the entire day. Of course, when on campaigns for Alexander, he had kept himself secluded. However, he found this seclusion different. There was something more eerie, something more depressing, and he feared this change. For a moment he feared that he would never again hear another voice. Luckily, there were footfalls, and he leaned back against the wall. Already he knew that it was not Alexander. Instead, he saw Cassander coming down the stairs.

"You look depressed," Cassander muttered as he entered the dank dungeon. He glanced around, then seemed to shrug off the appearance of the room. Hephaestion did not move. Instead he followed Cassander with his eyes, and he wondered what had become of Alexander. He could not imagine Alexander quietly resting somewhere. Instead, he knew that he was pacing in a room, muttering curses to the gods and all that had ever angered him.

"He is in his room," Cassander provided. At least now Hephaestion seemed to look at him, and not behind him. Where was he going to hide him anyway? "I can assure you that he is not resting, but at least he is away from the others. He cannot impede upon our plans if he speaks to no one, or at least I hope he cannot."

"Will it be soon," Hephaestion asked, swallowing hard. Cassander almost laughed. There were still a few things that even Hephaestion did not know. The poor thing; he looked so sad. Hephaestion did not give him much of a chance to reply. Instead he wrung his hands together once more and then pushed himself up. He did not dare edge closer though, for already he could see that Cassander had the keys to the cell in his hand. He dangled them for a moment, but Hephaestion already had more to say. It seemed he had so much to say, and so much to fear, and if Cassander were the only one he would ever see again he might as well say something. He swallowed, letting out a short breath that caused even Cassander to glance up, and he had claimed to be heartless for so long. His azure eyes then met Cassander, which in comparison Cassander knew looked so utterly dull, and blinked.

"You will care for him," Hephaestion asked, a lingering pain coating his words. "I just, what I mean to say is….he will need you, after I am gone. There will be power in it for you, but there will be nothing for him. Nothing."

Cassander did not know how to respond. Even now, thinking that surely tonight would be his last night in this world, he was thinking of anyone but himself. Such devotion would never again be found in any man, and Cassander knew this. He did not have to be a prophet to know as much. Instead of replying he pushed the metal key into its designated slot, and when he heard a reassuring clank he pushed the door open. He stepped in, not at all worried, and glanced around the cell as he shut the door. Hephaestion continued to stare at him, as if not at all worried either. How wrong he was, and Cassander knew this, for he knew already what he was going to have to do. Again he could not immediately say anything, nor begin with the task at hand. He glanced once more around the dirty cell, then saw the hanging arm. Hephaestion seemed to know, even though he was now staring at his hands again, what the other's eyes had fallen upon.

"I thought of removing it," he told him quietly. "I just don't have the stomach for it."

"Are they feeding you," Cassander asked. It was a stupid question. He could not even begin to answer the question of why he had asked. It was foolish. However, he felt as if he had said something important, even though he knew he had not. "I assure they're taking some consideration in the matter. After all, we all know…."

"….that I am going to be executed," Hephaestion filled in when Cassander stopped. Cassander shook his head though. He even found himself biting at his lower lip for comfort. Again he shook his head, and this time Hephaestion could see the movement.

"We all know that you do not deserve to be in here," Cassander told him softly. Now it was he that was wringing his hands together. "Not even I wish to see you in here."

"I am sure you find some joy in it," Hephaestion mused. He could tell by the look upon Cassander's face that he did not. There was no joy in it for any of them. Cassander turned then, avoiding Hephaestion's eyes, and moved to the arm. Silently he placed a key into the lock, and removed the decrepit bits of flesh. Hephaestion looked away as Cassander placed it outside of the cell, with all of the intentions of removing it from Hephaestion's sight. He did not need to be here, let alone have only a decayed limb for company. As he had his back turned he made sure to wipe a lone tear from under his eye. He could not explain why he cried, but he knew now that courage did not come from battles. It came from the heart and soul, as it radiated from Hephaestion, who was willing to give his life for Alexander's. Cassander knew, even though it was a sad truth, that Alexander would not be so willing to give up and lie down for his beloved.

"There is something," Cassander said as he turned to face Hephaestion once more, "that I have come to do. It is needed, even if I do not want to bear the burden of doing it."

"What could possibly be worse than this," the other asked. He even put on a false smile, as if content with the way things were working out for him. Without waiting for Cassander to explain further he stood once more, his legs stiff from so much cramped sitting, and stepped around Cassander. He bared his back, slowly pushing material down only as far as he needed, and placed his hands upon the cold bars. The cold ran through his veins it seemed. He wondered if it would be warmer tomorrow, on the day of his execution, for he'd like to feel warm before dying. He did not appreciate the cold.

"It will hurt more if your back is bare," Cassander warned.

"It will look better. A beating is what it is. You do not have to apologize. In fact, I don't even want you to feel bad about it. Do what is needed, Cassander. I understand."

"No," Cassander whispered. "I do not believe that you do. You are not of this world, Hephaestion Amyntor. You throw yourself at the feet of the council only to save a man that even you know deserves some sort of punishment. Look around you Hephaestion. Did you ever imagine yourself winding up here? Even now, when I am about to torture you as the Persians have asked me to do, you tell me that you do not want me to regret my actions. How dare you lower yourself so much! Of course," he continued, his voice quivering, "I am going to regret this. Do you not think I know what I have done to you all these years? I've tortured you from the moment that you returned from Athens; from the moment that I knew you were better than me."

"Perhaps it is you that do not regard yourself high enough," Hephaestion responded shortly. He let go of the bars for a moment and turned to face Cassander. His friend, if he could call him such, was now holding the thick piece of leather in his hand. His grip was weak, and his demeanor showed that he was not lying about feeling guilty. Hephaestion took the leather thong from him and ran his fingers around the edge. Then he handed it back, and as Cassander reached out to take it he smiled, even if the smile was laced with lost hope.

"When you strike, make sure that you hit hard," Hephaestion told him. "If you're going to do it, don't let anyone suspect that you went easy on me."

"Hephaestion," Cassander said as the blue-eyed one took his position once more, and as he raised the thong, "you have no idea how easy I wish you were."

Moments later Cassander stepped into the hall, where a young Hindi boy was standing. The boy stared wide eyed at Cassander, whom he was told was a pale demon. Cassander, his hand almost shaking, told him to get him gauze and bandages. The boy, still wide eyed, stared at Cassander as if he could not understand him. This, beyond no compare, infuriated Cassander.

"Gauze," he screamed, "and bandages!"

As the boy ran off, now knowing what he was to do, Cassander saw Alexander. Alexander's arms were folded across his chest, as if he had a stomach ache, and he frowned as he came closer. So he knew, Cassander thought. He knew what had been ordered, and he knew now that he'd been the one to deliver the punishment. Slowly Cassander shook his head as the king approached. Before Alexander could reach him the boy ran past him. The boy had been trained well, for he brought not only gauze and ointment, but also a long wrapping cloth and a small basin filled with warm water. Cassander pointed, without speaking, to Alexander. Obediently the boy handed the contents of his arms to Alexander, and then scurried back into a small shadow. For a moment this boy reminded Cassander of Bagoas.

"I will not go down with you," Cassander said, still keeping up this masquerade of not caring. He did care though, and he hated the rules that had been set for Alexander. "Tend to him quickly, for the Persians are assured you should not be allowed to see him at all. Go, quickly."

"Then it has been done," Alexander asked.

"Yes," the other nodded. "I fear that it has been done. He is so brave my king. He did not even let out a breath."

The darkness covered the area. For some time he could see nothing at all. As soon as he could see, however, he did not want to see. Four deep lashes were spread out across Hephaestion's back, oozing blood around the edges of where he'd been beaten. The center of these lashes were strips of bright red, burning it seemed, and there were little spots of black and blue bruising. Alexander, mouth agape, pushed the cell open. Only then did Hephaestion raise his head, his eyes almost out of light, but the shine was still there. As soon as he saw him, he was alive once more it seemed.

"By the gods," Alexander whispered as he placed a hand upon Hephaestion's shoulder. Hephaestion winced ever so slightly, but then seemed to relax under Alexander's touch. "Do not lie back; I want you touching none of this."

"Ale," Hephaestion whispered softly. It was then that he smiled, even though life had been so cruel to him. He reached up, running his soft fingertips over the stubble upon Alexander's cheek, and then let out a soft breath. "You're crying."

"I know," Alexander answered quietly. He then let his tears fall as he wrapped his arms around Hephaestion. He held him tightly, letting his tears fall, and then drew in short breaths. Alexander could almost feel his heart breaking. At the same time, he knew that he'd once again failed Hephaestion. Hephaestion had always been so strong. He had always helped him through his troubled times, and now he couldn't even pretend to be strong enough for him.

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"What can we do," Ptolemy asked as he slammed his mug back down upon the table. He ran a hand through his hair, his anger rising. Once more he drew in another breath and loudly released a displeased exhale. "We know that he did not do this! We know, but what are we to do?"

"According to the traditions and laws," Parmenion began, but was quickly cut off by another of Ptolemy's interjections.

"I don't care about the damned traditions! Hephaestion is innocent. We all know how much he cares for Alexander, and damn it, they need each other."

"Well," Cassander finally uttered, "there is something I think we should all know about. If you look at this letter," Cassander continued as he began to pull out his version of evidence, "you will see that it is written in Hephaestion's hand. This letter is as well, of course, but you can see the differences. He wrote the second, Alexander's speech, in a hurry."

"What does that mean," Parmenion asked, clearly not entirely on Hephaestion's side. It did not surprise Cassander either. They would all be wise to kick Hephaestion when he was down. However, not even he was so cruel of a man. "He wrote one quickly. What does that say to any of us?"

"It says that he wrote one under extreme stress," Cassander smirked. "You would not know about stress Parmenion. First, you would have to do something."

"How dare you," the other began, but was immediately cut off. Cassander was not going to let him get far here. Hephaestion, for some reason or another, was now his concern.

"Let me read this. Let me know, anyone, if it sounds familiar." Cassander picked up the letter he'd found long ago with Roxanne. Luckily, he had been able to find it. Still he could see Cleitus' writing, so very different from Hephaestion's, and knew that he was doing the right thing. The right thing, he laughed. Had he ever known what the right thing was a few days ago? He then read, "I know Alexander better than he knows. Should it become needed, I will help control him."

There was silence around the room. Finally Ptolemy seemed to be enjoying this. Even he could see what Cassander was doing. Without another word Cassander tossed the letter down onto the table, then sat back. The letter was picked up, looked at by a few of the Companions, and then placed back down. It appeared as if an answer had been found.

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"What do you think they are doing," Hephaestion asked. Alexander had spent hours with him. Cassander had told the guards to allow it, despite any customs, and they'd obliged. No one wanted to see Hephaestion in such deplorable conditions, and no one was willing to stop Alexander from seeing him. All knew of the king's wrath, and of his love for Hephaestion. If one were to question the love, the wrath would grow.

"I think Cassander is trying to find a way to keep you safe," Alexander replied, an honest answer. He lightly traced the line of Hephaestion's cheek, then placed a soft kiss against his forehead. "I will not let them harm you Hephaestion. I swear it; I will not let them touch you."

"Alexander, please, do not fight them."

"How can you say that! I love you Hephaestion, I love you more than any other man has ever loved anything in the world. I am not going to let you go. If the come for you, I will kill them all."

"And if you cannot?"

"Then I die with you," Alexander swore. It was then that he felt as if tears were stinging his eyes again. "I am sorry Hephaestion. I did not mean to be so reckless. I wish it were just a horrible dream."

"I regret nothing."

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Cassander pushed the door open, and finally everything was right again. Hephaestion, escorted by Alexander, was led into the room. Hephaestion did not seem overwhelmed. Instead, he appeared content, but as if nothing had changed. Alexander helped him to the bed, where he sat down, and then turned back to Cassander. Cassander stepped out of the room, trailed by Alexander, and then shut the door.

"Thank you," Alexander told him. Cassander shrugged, then thought about it for a moment. "I really mean it Cassander. Thank you, from both of us."

"Well," Cassander mused, "I think it was worth it. You get your empire regardless of your actions. Hephaestion gets to look like a saint. Cleitus is dead, his image slightly marred, but it is no good to him now. I, on the other hand, have saved us all in a way. It was worth it."

"Tell me," Alexander asked as the other began to walk away. Cassander stopped and glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "If I had been in the dungeon, would you have helped Hephaestion?"

"I would have helped him," he replied. "It is you that I would have left there though."

It was honest enough. Cassander left then, and Alexander stepped back into the room. He wanted to hold Hephaestion. He desired to tell him that all would be well, and that from this moment he would be wiser, and that he would care for him. However, as he entered the room, his eyes fell upon Hephaestion. Hephaestion had sprawled himself across the bed, and lay sleeping soundly. It was likely the only sleep he'd gotten in the past two days. Alexander smiled, watching him sleep, and then crossed the room. Trying not to disturb him he lay down next to him, wrapped an arm around him, and kissed his shoulder. Tomorrow, he swore, would be a better day.

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**A/N: Thank you for reading –everyone. Please leave your last comment, if you can spare a few moments, and let me know what you thought. Cannot wait to see you all when my next fiction begins! Baliansword **


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